Perspectives From A Cloak
by Saphrona Attecombe
Summary: 'You're ready when the Relic decides you're ready,' Mordo tells Doctor Strange. Not long after, he is Chosen by the Cloak Of Levitation. What brings Cloak to Choose Stephen? How will it's unique personality and centuries of existence affect it's association with Strange? A series of stories told from the perspective of Cloak! Adventure, humor, the unexpected, and a little romance!
1. Broken Glass

Perspectives From A Cloak

One

Broken Glass

It was early afternoon in New York, and outside the Sanctum, the sun was shining.

Inside, the aura was a little more clandestine.

In the Relic Room, the Cloak of Levitation was puddled on the floor in the corner of a glass case, a morose swath of crimson, bored.

It could easily break out if it chose, but there was really no reason to. If it left, there would

be no chance of finding a new Master.

So, the glass wasn't a prison, per se, and Cloak tolerated it because it prevented the curious from attempting to touch it.

The idea of one not of its' choosing doing such a thing made its fibers bristle.

Plus, the glass kept the dust off.

It had been here, oh, what, decades?

Waiting for a Master.

A Master who felt deserving.

Any time it sensed someone approaching, it raised, gave a sound shake, and formed into a regal drape. It certainly wouldn't do to have the Cloak of Levitation be seen any other way.

There were plenty of visitors to the Sanctum. Many new Masters came here, hoping to be accepted by a relic, and, of course, the resident Master passed thru regularly.

Boring.

Suddenly, Cloak perked its collar up. There was a bit of racket in the far end of the building...and now someone was calling, a voice it didn't recognize.

Cloak floated up, shook itself smooth, and waited to see who would come thru the doorway.

Well.

 _Hello._

Tall, broad shoulders, purposeful stride.

Confident.

A curious twist to his brow, beneath the sweep of his black bangs, as he wandered thru the relics.

Eyeing various items, drawing closer to Cloak.

Cloak felt a little ruffle of interest twitch thru its threads, and edged up to the glass. The man, eyes a keen blue, perused it, with some consternation, and a little confusion, before continuing silently on his way.

Cloak gave a sway of irritation that the man in Masters colors had left without so much as a backwards glance, but held tight to its posture, hoping for a return.

It didn't have long to wait.

Within minutes, the sounds of battle roared down in the main foyer. Cloak trembled, slightly, but kept its attention toward the doorway, where it anticipated the return of the unknown Master. It heard the conflict, making its way up the long staircase.

His entrance was fairly dramatic, to say the least.

His skills, while practiced, were lesser than those of his creepy faced enemy.

That guy clearly had problems.

When he started tossing the blue clad Master thru shelves and cases, Cloak observed. Admired the way the Master kept getting back up, kept fighting, even tho it was pretty obvious he was outmatched.

When he came crashing into Cloaks case, it had made a decision.

Block creepy guys weapon.

Cloak had never seen its' like, but was certain it didn't want it used on the brave Master.

And when the unknown Master got tossed over the balustrade, Cloak didn't hesitate.

That fall would kill him.

Which would be a tragedy.

It zipped, faster than lighting, past the assailant, to catch the falling Master.

It swept beneath him, like a hammock, barely catching him before he splattered on the floor in a bloody mess.

Cloak set him gently on his feet, and the man, panting from his exertions, looked at it.

'Doctor Stephen Strange,' he gasped, with a nod,

'Very pleased to make your acquaintance.'

Cloak shivered, excitement, realization; THIS was a master it could serve.

It swirled two fast loops, then fell onto his shoulders, like it had been there its' entire existence.

Fairly humming with excitement.

Stephen squared his shoulders, lowered his chin, jaw set.

'Thank you,' he said, quietly, into the collar of what was now _his_ Cloak.

'Now, take me back up there, so I can kick that jerks' ass.'

Cloak spread into its full glory, lifted its new Master back up to the Relic Room, and that's exactly what they did.

With a few odd detours thrown in.

* * *

It was the wee hours of the morning when Stephen came out of the bathroom, into his new accommodations at the New York Sanctum.

He wore grey sweatpants, a towel draped around bare shoulders.

Padding on bare feet to a desk, where he'd laid out a few first aid supplies.

A soft whisper of movement caught the corner of his eye, and Cloak appeared at his elbow.

He gave a half smile, realizing just how weird his life had actually become.

He laid the towel aside, sorted thru his medical options.

Cloak hovered, almost anxiously, at his side as he took stock of all the cuts, scrapes, and bruises he'd accumulated.

Wincing, he inspected the neat, perfect stitches Christine had put in his chest, not a one torn.

Cloak lifted its hem edge, hesitantly, toward the brutal injury, and ran a gentle pass above it, as if in apology, then its shoulders sagged, sorrowfully.

'Hey, that's not your fault,' Stephen said, feeling less odd than one might imagine, speaking to an animated garment.

Cloaks posture seemed to lighten, and it lifted up so Stephen was eye level with its collar.

Stephen grabbed a bottle of strong disinfectant, tipped it onto some cotton, and swabbed the stitches, sucking a sharp breath between clenched teeth, then moved on to dabbing other various abrasions.

'That thing you did in the hallway,' he said, as he did so, 'that 'wrap around his head' attack...that was pretty cool.'

Cloak swayed, and Stephen could swear its chest puffed with pride.

Stephen finished his ministrations, set everything aside, and gave a deep sigh.

Eyes closed, head low, he said,

'You saved my life, so many times, in just one afternoon. How can I thank you?'

Then looked at Cloak, which just hovered there, silent.

Stephens brow furrowed, and he wondered, quietly, fear in his tone,

'What would've happened to me if I hadn't broken that glass?'

Cloak hovered closer, swayed as if it might answer.

Then, deliberately, it lifted a glass from the desktop, and, forming a cradle beneath with its opposite side, crushed the vessel into splinters.

Demonstrating, the only way it could, what it would have done to get to its Chosen one.

Stephens jaw dropped, briefly, then he found a grin.

'I see,' he nodded, mock serious, then indicated the shattered glass Cloak had kept contained in its folds, said, an amused tone,

'Clean up your mess. I need some sleep.'

Cloak dutifully shook every last shard into the waste can in the corner of the room.

Stephen had moved to his bedside when Cloak drifted over, settled briefly over his shoulders. After a moment, it gave a tentative brush against Stephens cheeks with its collar.

Doctor Stephen Strange chuckled, and didn't protest.

'Yeah, yeah, alright, ' he murmured, smoothed the fabric of Cloak, where it draped across his forearm, and smiled.

* * *

Welcome to what I have been told I need to call 'Season One' of the series 'Perspectives From A Cloak'!

Feedback welcomed and highly anticipated! Please, PLEASE leave me reviews! I write this for the love of Cloak and its Chosen, and your feedback is invaluable to me. I read and treasure every review.

I don't own these wonderful characters, nor do I make any profit on these stories. My goal is that these adventures find their way to Marvel, and serialization!

If you would enjoy seeing artwork related to these adventures, simply find me on Instagram;

'Lady Stephanie Strange'. I will label each so you know what story it is linked to. I also plan on posting 'in progress' works so you can see my creative process.


	2. Portrait Part One

Two

Portrait

Part One

'You can't be serious,' Doctor Stephen Strange scowled, shaking his head, disbelief.

Wong merely looked at him, face set in that blank, unreadable, vaguely condescending expression that Stephen secretly referred to as 'Wong face'.

'I mean, really, you're kidding, right?' Stephen insisted, already aware that Wong wasn't going to budge.

Wong turned, headed back toward the main rooms of the building.

Stephen followed, a bit put out, reeling off a list of questions, aimed at Wong's unyielding back,

'A portrait? Of me? Why?'

'Tradition,' Wong replied, over his shoulder, as they came into the main audience room at Kamar-Taj.

'What?' Stephen snapped.

Wong stopped, turned to face him.

'It is tradition that the Masters of each Sanctum have their portraits rendered, so they may hang in the Hall of Memory. Across the centuries, it has been so.'

Stephen made a face, said, snarkily,

' 'Hall of Memory'? How come I've never seen that?'

Wong said, chastising,

'There are many things you have yet to see, Strange.'

Stephen gave another snort of annoyance, observed,

'And, many things that require my attention. Things more important than wasting hours of my time sitting for a portrait.'

'You should return to New York. Master Jade will be meeting you there,' Wong replied, flatly, ignoring Stephens protests.

'Who is that?'

'Master Jade has requested the privilege of capturing your likeness. You should be honored. It is not often she makes that skill available.'

Stephen twisted his face in thought, offered, slyly,

'Maybe you could just...take a picture?'

Wong answered, as he often did, with silence, and a blank scowl.

Wong face.

Stephen sighed, threw his hands up in surrender.

'I will go ahead, prepare things,' Wong said, turning to head toward the Portal room, admonishing,

'You should not keep Master Jade waiting.'

Stephen watched as Wong exited the hall, then turned to head across the courtyard, to borrow a few books from the Library. He spent extra time, there, deliberately delaying his return to New York.

Finally, deciding he couldn't come up with any more excuses to postpone his departure, he headed toward his rooms to gather Cloak.

Cloak swirled to his shoulders as he entered, exhibiting that uncanny ability to know they were leaving.

'Home, to New York,' he informed it, and headed toward the portal room.

* * *

Stephen stepped into the New York Sanctum, muttering irritably under his breath. The more he thought about it, the more he knew he wasn't slightly interested in this whole thing. He really did have more important things to do, and intended to do his best to avoid the entire scenario.

He strode purposefully across the burnished wood floors, Cloak billowing around him. Headed toward his private suite of rooms, tossing a glance around, looking for Wong.

No sign of him, or anyone else.

Good. Maybe they'd gotten tired, and left.

He was a little unprepared to step into his study and very nearly fall over Wong.

Wong gave a disapproving glare, chided,

'We have been waiting.'

Stephen glanced across the room, eyes narrowing at the figure standing in the large window, back toward him. He could only see a silhouette, sharply defined by sunlight streaming in.

'Master Jade, Doctor Stephen Strange,' Wong said, and the figure turned to face him.

Suddenly, Cloak seemed to shudder, as if excited, or afraid, and pulled away from Stephens shoulders, surprising him.

It moved to hover close by the woman, Master Jade.

Stephen gave it a scowl, not sure he liked how fast it had zipped over to her.

'Pleased to finally meet you, Doctor,' she greeted, a smile in her voice. He perused her, and her attire. She wore the familiar ensemble of most masters, her colors black and emerald green. It's style was, perhaps, a bit antiquated, but suited her, contrasted nicely with burgundy black hair, tumbling along her shoulders.

Stephen noted how she held tightly to a very ornate staff of dark wood, about five feet long, tripped with intricate silver ferrules at both ends.

She took a step away from the window, out of the shadows cast by sunlight at her back. Then he met her eyes...or, rather, where they used to be.

Instead of eyes, he found empty sockets.

He recoiled, slightly, and somehow she sensed it, and lowered her chin, hair curtaining the sides of her face.

After taking a few seconds to form a comment, Stephen scowled, annoyed, huffed,

'Look, I'm sorry. I know I'm going to sound like a real jerk, here, but, how is a blind person going to paint my portrait?'

Master Jade laughed, lifted her face, said, teasingly,

'Wong said you had much to learn. He is, for once, correct,' with a broad smile.

Wong, as usual, didn't flinch, but Stephen saw a small softening in his features.

'So, Doctor, may I see you?' she asked, respectfully, with a small bow of her head.

Stephen had no idea what she meant, but Cloak did.

It floated close to her, wrapped gently around her shoulders with one side, raised its hem edge on the other to take her free hand. She smiled at Cloaks touch, trustingly allowed it to lead her across the floor to Stephen, who felt a little embarrassed at his lack of courtesy.

Cloak freed one edge of its hem, reached out toward its Chosen, carefully lifted his arm toward Master Jade, so she could lay her hand to his.

Awkwardly, he allowed her hand to rest there, hyper aware of how obvious the trembling must feel to her heightened senses.

She stepped in close, then raised her hands toward his face, hesitated a second.

Waiting for his permission.

He nodded, then realized that was ridiculous, because she couldn't see him.

But apparently she sensed the gesture, and lay a gentle touch to his skin.

Her hands traced his features, as delicately as his former surgeons touch, a soft smile on her lips.

After what seemed like eternity, she lowered her hands, asked, quietly,

'Your hands?'

Stephen nearly stepped away, unwilling to allow another to experience those scars.

Cloak whispered to his side, nudged him, carefully, urging him to allow it.

He gave his scarlet companion a glare, which, in the past, may have felt foolish. However, since his association with Cloak he'd come to realize it was almost human, and was sensitive to his words and expressions.

'Alright, alright,' he grouched, softly, as Cloak insistently bumped him. He looked to Master Jade, realized she was smiling, amused, and wondered how she could tell what Cloak was doing.

Extending his hands, he willed the trembling to stop as she reached for them.

Of course, it didn't.

It took all his courage to allow her to trace the scars, without moving. If anything, her touch was even more careful than it had been on his face.

Her brow folded into a compassionate frown, she murmured,

'Thank you, Doctor,' and allowed him to pull his hands away.

Wong pulled a chair out for her, and she settled into it, laying her staff across her lap, and grew very still.

Then her astral form jolted free, into the room, startling Stephen.

She laughed, and sparkling blue eyes met his as she came to stand in front of him.

'You're surprised,' she chuckled, looking him over.

Angry, Stephen demanded,

'Why not lead with the 'I'm not really blind' angle?'

'I am. Only in my astral form am I able to see.'

'Why all this, then?' he insisted, displaying his hands, indicating her need to touch his face.

She smiled, replied,

'That's how I see the truth, who you really are. Your eyes can deceive you. So, I prefer to save that impression for later.'

Cloak returned to its Chosen, settling into its preferred place on his shoulders.

Master Jade gave it a wink, and Stephen could swear it made some sort of gesture in reply.

'You should be flattered. The Cloak has been many decades without a Master to care for.

'I often wished it had come to me, but you clearly have need of it.

You will, of course, wear it for your portrait.'

Cloak whirled from Stephen's shoulders, in what could only be seen as happiness, straight toward Master Jade. It swooped several small circles around her, drawing a hearty laugh.

'We shall begin tomorrow, if that's good for you?' she suggested, and Stephen began,

'Well, actually, I have this thing...' and Cloak slammed into his back, making him stumble a step forward.

He offered it a glare, ignoring how Wong had very nearly laughed.

She looked carefully around the study, noting how Stephen had already transformed it into a reflection of himself, and gave a slight nod.

'I believe we shall use this room. I've always liked the light,' she decided, glancing toward the giant windows.

Stephen was a little confused by the phrasing of her remark.

Had she been here, before?

He dismissed the thought, then grumbled, but didn't bother voicing yet another complaint that would just be ignored, anyways.

Master Jade's astral form returned to her body, and she came to her feet, staff tip resting lightly on the floor.

Her expression grew very serious, as she warned,

'I have one rule. You may not look at the portrait until I have finished it.'

'Fine,' Stephen nodded, not quite comfortable with looking her in the face.

Wong came to stand beside her, offered his arm, which she took.

'I'll leave it to you to select your wardrobe, Doctor, but I do insist we use that gorgeous tall backed chair that sits at your desk.'

Stephen shot a glance over his shoulder toward the mentioned chair, surprised she had even noticed any details of his study in the few brief minutes she'd had to survey it.

'Until tomorrow, then, Doctor,' she nodded, and allowed Wong to lead her from his rooms.


	3. Portrait: Conclusion

Portrait

Conclusion

Stephen ruffled around the giant armoire that housed his wardrobe, growing more frustrated by the minute.

'Honestly, how many sets of clothes are in here?' he complained, tossing a third possible choice onto the bed.

Cloak hovered, almost impatiently, and Stephen could swear it was concerned about what he chose.

He paused, hands on hips, then rubbed his chin, commented, deviously,

'Maybe I won't wear any clothes. Are there other nudes in the gallery?'

Cloak threw its' hem edges up to its collar, shaking all over, clearly expressing horror.

Stephen laughed, assured,

'C'mon. I'm kidding,' and leaned back in the armoire, one more time.

His hands fell on a midnight blue suit, the fabric lush to his partially numb fingers. He pulled it out, surveyed it.

It was bold, detailed, regal. Bespoke a sense of power.

He smiled, checked the styling, which was spot-on what he liked.

Then he sighed, decided it might be a little ostentatious, and went to hang it back up.

Cloak jerked between him and the armoire, swaying back and forth, denial.

Stephen looked at it, asked,

'You think this one?'

Cloak gently pushed the garment tightly against its Chosen.

Bemused, Stephen nodded, conceded,

'Alright.'

* * *

When Stephen entered the study, Wong had already set everything up in preparation for Master Jade, and stood close by to assist her.

Hearing him, she turned, with a smile.

Feeling awkward, Stephen automatically returned it, still uneasy about her eyeless face. Nervously, he awaited directions, Cloak fidgeting on his shoulders.

'Thank you, Wong,' Master Jade said, finding a seat in the chair close by her easel and the table holding her paints.

Wong gave a slight nod, then left.

Master Jade laid the staff across her lap, clenched it tightly, preparing to loose her astral body, and Stephen had a sudden revelation.

'It's the staff, isn't it?' he observed, halting her.

'I've been wondering how you would move anything in the physical realm, with your astral body. It's just not possible.'

She sighed, then smiled.

'I was wondering how long it would take you to figure that out.'

After a few moments, she explained,

'The staff came to me, after I lost my sight. It gifts me with the ability to touch the physical realm, from the astral.'

'So you can paint.'

'Or fight, or do whatever is necessary. The Staff of Bisected Realities.'

Stephen shook his head, observed, sarcastically, a twist of dismay on his brow,

'Wow. They really need to come up with better names for some of these relics.'

She laughed, merrily, then freed her astral body.

She took a moment, surveyed his choice of attire, and gave a nod of approval.

Suggested,

'Shall we begin?' and gestured for him to have a seat.

He sat, awkwardly, attempting to adjust Cloak as it attempted to adjust itself. Stephen could almost feel its threads tingling with excitement.

'Just relax, the both of you,' she chided, stepping close.

Cloak fluttered, then settled calmly around it's Chosen's shoulders.

She observed for a moment, then reached out, took Stephens hands in hers.

He noticed how cool they felt.

'You need to hold your hands, thusly,' she advised, gently positioning them so they lay against the edges of Cloak, just at his chest.

'No,' Stephen snapped, blunt refusal, jerking is hands away.

'Why would I want anyone to see these?'

'These scars do not define you, any more than the loss of my eyes defines me. But, they helped lead you here, to become Master of the New York Sanctum.'

He stared at her, wanting to argue, but her calm determination diffused his anger.

After a moment, he asked,

'Would this do?' draping Cloak over his right forearm, where it rested on the chair arm, then laying his left hand over it, a familiar caress.

She raised her brows, approvingly, and nodded.

'Quite good, Doctor,' she agreed, asked,

'Cloak?'

To which Cloak gave a delighted wriggle.

'Well, then. Some music, and we can begin.'

The hours passed quickly, and Stephen found, once he relaxed, he didn't resent sitting for her, at all.

He could see her face, fascinated by watching her expressions, the music was a pleasant diversion, as was their casual conversation, and, suddenly, the day was gone.

Then two, then three, four.

Days, sitting in the golden sun.

Evenings she retired to rest, having explained how weary interacting with the physical realm in her astral form was for her.

Oddly, no threats arose, Wong never summoned him. It seemed the world outside had gone calm.

Finally, on the fifth afternoon, she was finished, and Stephen was surprised by how anxious he was to view the completed work.

'Patience, Doctor,' Master Jade advised, 'I wish to have it hanging in the gallery, so you may see it where it belongs. Shall we say, tomorrow morning?'

'Alright, Master,' Stephen nodded, as he stood, and Cloak left his shoulders, gave a rousing shake.

Master Jade laughed,

'I thank you both for your patience.'

Cloak rustled up close to the back of the large canvas, acted as if it were about to peek around the corner, and Master Jade shooed it away, with a chuckle.

'Tomorrow,' she repeated, and draped the picture with a cover.

* * *

Master Jade waited in the study for Stephen and Cloak, tip of her staff resting lightly on the floor.

A quick glance around the room showed that, at some point during the night, Master Jade had managed to have the portrait moved.

The realization was moderately disturbing to Stephen, that someone could pull that off right outside his bedroom without him, or Cloak, realizing they were there.

Stephen's brow crinkled, and he thought he'd have to have a word with Wong about opening a portal in his private rooms. Who else could it have been?

She smiled broadly, and Stephen realized that now, when he looked at her, he saw who she was, not her lack of eyes.

'Are you ready?' she asked, pulling on her sling ring.

Another surprise.

She sensed his reaction, offered,

'I don't need eyes to envision where we're going.'

'That's good,' Stephen chuckled, stepping up alongside her, ' Since I have no idea where the Hall of Memories is at.'

'Kamar-Taj,' she informed him, but the portal opened at the far end of a hallway to somewhere he had never been.

He offered his arm, she took it, and they stepped thru.

The hallway was long, but well lit. Ahead of them, all along the walls, Stephen saw the edges of frames, apparently pictures of past Masters. The one closest them had a drape over it.

With a deep breath of anticipation, Stephen laid his hand, over hers, where it rested in the loop of his elbow, and started off.

He was unprepared for the tightening of her grip, her request,

'Please, wait.'

He paused, looking to her, questioningly.

'May I ask, one favor?'

Stephen nodded,

'Certainly.'

Her grip shifted from his arm, to Cloak, gently.

'Would you allow Cloak..to hold this form, so I may be there, to see...what you think?'

Cloak rippled, along his back and shoulders, a clear assent.

Stephen smiled, admitted,

'It pretty much does what it feels like, anyways. It's my partner, not my possession.'

Cloak offered its' Chosen a quick flick of thanks along his cheek with its' collar, then spun free.

Master Jade clutched the staff against her chest, and Cloak wrapped tightly around her.

Master Jade's astral form pulled away, and kept step alongside Stephen as he headed toward the portrait closest him.

Cloak came immediately behind, Master Jade cradled carefully in its' grasp.

Her astral form stepped up, and, after a moments hesitation, pulled away the cloth.

He was unprepared for what he saw.

'Master Jade,' he breathed, 'I...really, I'm not sure what to say. Except, thank you.'

She hadn't painted him glaring, angrily, at a dark universe; instead, she'd captured him looking down at Cloak, a fond smile shaping his face, scarred fingers softly caressing the velvety folds, luminous in the golden bath of sunlight.

He looked over to her, thought he saw the sparkle of a tear, quickly blinked away.

She gestured, a nod, toward Cloak, and Stephen looked back, at his companion.

Cloak still held tightly to Master Jade, but the edges of its collar had curled inward, as if covering an invisible mouth, and he could see its edges trembling slightly.

He looked back at the picture, quite certain he could stand here for some time, discovering new details.

Quite certain he would.

'Thank you for allowing me to paint your portrait, Doctor,' she said, quietly, 'The luxury of painting, or such pleasant company, is not a pastime I often allow myself to indulge in.'

Stephen looked back to her, confused at the sorrow underlying her words.

Impulsively, he asked,

'Why me, then?'

She smiled, explained simply,

'Cloak.'

Sensing his confusion, she clarified,

'It has not chosen a Master for over a century. I felt that an event of such significance should be celebrated.'

Next to him, Cloak gave an all over shudder, which Stephen translated as happiness, and pulled a smile to his face.

All at once, she took a step back, her features faded into harsher lines.

'I'm afraid I must go, now. I rather left some important things unattended, and I have certainly kept you away from your responsibilities long enough.'

Stephen blinked, surprised, disappointed, admitted,

'Absolutely, I understand. Though, it is unfortunate...I would like to get to know you better. I hope we will meet again, soon.'

Master Jade smiled, briefly, assured,

'On that score, Stephen, you may rely,' and returned to her body.

Cloak carefully unwrapped, allowing her to find her feet, staff to the floor.

Her fingers lingered in the scarlet folds, and Cloak seemed to return the tiny squeeze of her hand.

'Take care of him,' she whispered, so low that Stephen almost missed it.

Stephen moved to offer his arm, and she waved him away, pulling on her sling ring.

'Take care, Doctor,' she advised, moving confidently down the hallway toward the sparkling gateway which opened before her.

Stephen was attempting to get a look at where she was headed when Wong's sharp

'Strange! What are you doing here?' drew his attention to the opposite end of the hall.

He thought he heard some horrific, unexplainable sound, from her gateway, but by time he glanced back, she, and it, were gone.

Disturbed, he scowled, then turned his attention back to Wong who was striding angrily toward him.

'What's the problem, Wong? I'm just admiring my portrait.'

Wong stormed up, right in his face, clearly perturbed. He shot a glare at the picture, did a double take, and demanded,

'Where did this come from?'

'Oh, yeah, ha, ha,' Stephen snorted, rolling his eyes, 'as if you didn't know.'

Wong stared at him, as if he'd gone mad.

'I haven't been able to find you, or your cloak, for nearly a week. You went searching for the Eye of Agamotto after it disappeared from the Portal room.'

Stephen blinked, beyond confused, shook his head, asserted,

'No. No, you were the one who insisted I sit for Master Jade...'

'Who?'

'Master Jade.'

Wong shook his head, told him,

'Master Jade went into battle, in an unknown alternate dimension of the multiverse, nearly a century ago. She never returned.'

Stephen stared at Wong, utter disbelief, and was glad that Cloak had settled back on his shoulders, because he was afraid he might not keep his feet. Eyes closed, chin to chest, he asked,

'Was she blind?'

'How would you know that?' Wong insisted.

'Was she blind?' Stephen barked, really about ready to lose it.

'Yes. She lost her eyes to a would-be assassin, not long before that battle,' Wong confirmed, his own expression now showing disbelief.

'She had a staff. The Staff of Bisected Realities,' Stephen added, hand covering his heart, as if to keep it in his chest, breathing as if he'd just run a mile, or fought a battle.

Wong had no idea what to do, except nod, affirm, quietly,

'Yes.'

Stephen looked at him, fiercely, head whirling in absolute confusion.

After a moment, Wong said,

'Her picture is here,' heading back down the hall the way he'd come, 'She was Master of New York when she disappeared.'

Stephen followed, feeling like he was a player on a stage, but had forgotten all his lines. When he stepped in front of her picture, he groaned,

'Oh, my,' and Cloak tightened around him.

Master Jade, her blue eyes sparkling with humor, looked back at him, a sad, soft smile on her lips.

She was sitting in the same chair she'd chosen for him.

'How...how could this...be possible?' Stephen whispered, touching the canvas, carefully.

'Time passes differently, in different dimensions,' Wong offered, clearly as freaked out as Stephen.

'I cannot offer any other explanation.'

After a few moments, Stephen straightened, asked,

'Is the Eye returned?'

'Strange,' Wong replied, quietly, drawing Stephens attention,

'You are wearing it.'

* * *

Stephen sat in his rooms, numbly, staring at his portrait, propped up on the chair at his desk. Cloak floated close, swished gently against his arm, whether in a comforting gesture, or to get his attention, Stephen wasn't certain. He was still trying to understand how, and why, whatever had happened...happened.

'Was she actually here?' he finally asked Cloak.

Cloak went to the desk, folded something into its grasp, returned to lay it in his shaking hand.

A paintbrush, some of the same indigo blue that colored the picture still clinging to the handle.

Cloak touched Stephen's head, then his chest, with it's hem, clearly implying, 'What do you think?' and then tapping the brush in his hand.

Stephen looked at the brush, long moments, brow folded in thought.

Remembering Cloak's initial reaction to seeing her, he asked

'Did you know her?'

Cloak bobbed, a nod.

He mulled over several seemingly random thoughts, chaining them together to form a terrifying picture.

A blind Master, going unaided into a battle, on an unknown dimension. Her comments about neglecting certain responsibilities, the frightening snippet of sound, just as her gateway closed.

Could she be trapped, in a never-ending fight, alone, in some unperceived realm?

With a shudder, he remembered, how he'd felt, in the time loop, contesting Dormammu. Fear, determination, resignation, hope.

'Forget everything you think you know,' he whispered, with a long look toward Cloak.

Clenching the brush, tightly, he decided,

'I think I may need to visit Hank Pym.'

* * *

I confess. This story was supposed to be a lot shorter. It started out to be a simple bit of fun, but Master Jade and Cloak had other ideas about where to take it.

Cloak has been around perhaps centuries. It only makes sense it knows things, has seen things, that no one else has. It only makes sense that some of those things will impact life with his Chosen.

So, let me know. Like it? Hate it? As always, I live for those reviews!


	4. Gloves

Three

Gloves

Cloak hovered at the edge of the room, and watched as it's Chosen smoothed on the leather gauntlets, a satisfied grin shaping his often severe expression. He flexed his hands, moved them, muttered,

'These will do nicely.'

The light colored leather was buttercream soft, conformed perfectly to his elegant hands.

He looked to the dark skinned, dark haired man, clad in blue, waiting before him, said,

'Thank you, Master Bryton, for making these for me.'

Master Bryton offered a small bow, and a large smile.

'I'm pleased that they will fill your needs, Doctor,' he responded, and exited the audience hall of Kamar-Taj.

Stephen continued admiring the gloves, and, after a few minutes, Cloak gave an annoyed ruffle, drawing Stephen's attention.

After a brief second of confusion, he remembered,

'Students. Right,' and headed off toward the training grounds.

Cloak noticed he was still fussing happily with the new addition to his wardrobe, gave another petulant fluff, but waited, patient as always, for the return of it's Chosen.

That evening, back in New York, Stephen pulled off the new gauntlets, briefly eyeing his crimson comrade, hovering further in the corner of his rooms than it ever had. He smoothed the glove leather, obviously quite pleased with this new acquisition, then laid them on the desk. Cloak rippled, slightly, but Stephen wasn't quite sure what to make of his companions' mood.

He gave a wide yawn, and, with a perplexed look toward Cloak, headed off to shower, and to bed.

The next morning, preparing to leave for another day of tutoring at Kamar-Taj, Stephen stepped to the desk, looking for his gloves.

Brow furrowed, he looked all over the desktop, certain that was where he'd left them, the night before.

He was very nearly going to ask Cloak if it had seen them when he spotted them plopped into the waste can beside the desk.

Puzzled, he decided he must've accidentally laid them too close to the edge, and they'd fallen in.

With a shrug, he pulled them on, glancing toward Cloak, informed, cheerily,

'Kamar-Taj again, today,' headed out the door, waiting to feel the reassuring weight of Cloak settle onto his shoulders.

When it didn't, he stopped, looked questioningly toward Cloak, asked,

'You aren't coming?'

Almost reluctantly, Cloak shuffled from the corner, draped limply across his shoulders.

Stephen made a face, snorted,

'Ah, what's up with you, today?'

Cloak was uncharacteristically still, but Stephen was running late, and didn't have time to give it much more thought.

Then, the gloves were mislaid when he removed them to eat.

Again, when he went to research in the library.

The last straw was when he came out of the shower that evening to find them, yet again, in the waste can.

He pulled them out, with a sharp look toward Cloak, lurking in a far corner.

The obvious culprit.

His initial reaction was anger, but, first, he took a deep breath.

Asked, a bit more confrontationally than he intended,

'You don't care for these?' shaking them in Cloaks direction.

Cloak plastered its collar flat, leaving no doubt that it was scowling, and gave a short, brisk shake, back and forth.

NO.

Stephen shook his head, snapped,

'Why?'

Not exactly certain how he was going to get any clarification.

Sulkily, but with a determined swing, Cloak came alongside, then, hesitantly, reached toward Stephen's hand.

Irritably, he stretched it out.

Cloak carefully rubbed it's edge along his trembling palm, then let it's folds fall, and floated back a pace or two, waiting for it's Chosen to understand.

Stephen raised his brows, surprise, a sudden realization.

'You don't like that you can't touch me? Or, that I can't touch you, when I'm wearing them?' he blinked, astonished, and Cloak gave a solemn nod.

Stephen shook his head, then laughed, astounded.

It hadn't occurred to him how strongly Cloak had bonded, nor would he have ever thought it would actively seek out affection.

After a contemplative silence, he commented,

'Are you...jealous?' almost teasingly, with an edge of confusion.

Cloak jerked away, spun so its back was to Stephen, clearly in a huff.

Stephen chuckled, bemused, shook his head.

'Well, I must say, I am a bit confused as to why.'

Cloak did a half turn back, listening.

'These cover up my...' he displayed his scarred fingers, then clenched his hands into fists.

Sighed, admitted, 'They serve my vanity. Nothing more.'

Cloak swung back away, not completely appeased.

Stephen gave another obvious sigh, stepping away to lay the gloves on the desk,

'I mean, I like to think I've changed a lot, but I'm still a work in progress.'

Stephen gave a covert glance Cloaks direction, continued,

'I'd think my best friend would cut me a little slack.'

Cloak spun, met it's Chosen's gaze. Pointed toward itself, with its hem edge, a query.

Me?

Stephen shrugged, admission,

'Of course. My partner, my most trusted friend.'

Cloak hit Stephen like a bolt of crimson lightning, nearly knocking him over, quickly snuggled onto his shoulders, a wriggle of happiness.

Stephen laughed, offered,

'Can we compromise? I'll only wear these in public, and you stop throwing them away.

Deal?'

After a few seconds, Cloak gave a brief twitch, and Stephen smiled,

'I'll take that as a yes, you silly, jealous thing.'

Cloak shrugged, and cuddled it's Chosen.


	5. Tunes and Tomes

Four

Tunes and Tomes

Cloak floated close by it's Chosen, always quite curious about Stephen's wardrobe choices.

Stephen carefully surveyed his appearance in the giant mirror, feeling rather out of sorts wearing everyday street clothes. Checking his reflection, he barely recognized himself. Given, it was well tailored, expensive, casual attire, the style he had formerly felt very comfortable in, but since everything else that had happened in his life it just felt...weird. It had been some time since he'd gone out onto the streets of New York shopping, and he certainly didn't want to draw any attention to himself.

Noticing his companions' interest, he commented,

'Sorry, but you have to stay here, today. I need to pick up a few things, out in the world.'

Cloak gave a disappointed ruffle, resembling a sigh, and Stephen smiled, assured,

'I won't be long.'

Good to his word, Stephen returned shortly, carrying several bags. Cloak met him at the door like an excited child, followed to his study, watching carefully as he unpacked.

As he did so, Stephen chuckled,

'I didn't realize grooming products and groceries could be so enthralling. This, however,' he assured, with a dramatic flair,

'This may be,' and set a blue and silver bag up on the desk.

He pulled out a box, and Cloak noticed his expression was happier than usual. It zipped in closely, anxious to see what could make its' Chosen so cheerful.

'I've really missed music,' he admitted, quietly, turning the silver and black cylinder admiringly in his hands,

'Time to enjoy it, again,' and set the speaker on his desk.

Cloak gave a puzzled swish, not certain what the object was, or what it had to do with music.

Stephen pulled out his phone, turned on the speaker, and paired it via Bluetooth.

Music swelled into the room, and Stephen's smile spread even wider.

Cloak twitched its' collar, inquisitively.

With a satisfied pat on the speaker, Stephen put away the rest of his items, then gathered several large books, pulled the tall backed chair up to his desk, and settled in for some study.

He'd been rummaging around the library, whenever he found time, in the weeks that had passed since his bizarre encounter with Master Jade. Aside from the fact that the library held thousands of tomes, not even Wong had any idea what type of book, what kind of information, they were searching for.

The ones he'd returned to New York with had seemed, after a brief initial perusal, to be promising in his quest to unravel where, and or when, the missing Master was.

The background music smoothed away all other concerns, and he opened the first book.

Cloak hovered close by, giving the impression of being completely enthralled with the new addition to its' environment.

Stephen had been reading for some time when he felt a light tap on his shoulder, looked up at Cloak, curiously.

'Yes?'

Cloak reached over, tapped the speaker, then shrugged.

Confused, Stephen shook his head, asked,

'What about it? It's a Bluetooth speaker.'

Cloak shook NO, tapped it again, then swayed briefly to the beat.

Stephen scowled, struggling to comprehend exactly what his scarlet companion was attempting to communicate.

After a moment, it hit him.

'You want to know...what the name of the song is?'

Cloak gave an excited bob, drawing a laugh from Stephen.

'Canon in D. By Pachelbel.'

Then, in a few minutes, another tap.

'Eruption. Van Halen.'

Tap, tap, tap.

Finally, Stephen suggested, eyes sparkling with amusement,

'Ok, ok, how about I just give you the title and artist for every song?'

Cloak gave an excited bounce, drawing a chuckle from Stephen.

He shook his head, bemused, wondered how he had managed to end up with an overgarment that enjoyed music as much as he did.

Ok, given, that entire thought was completely insane, but, that was his life, now.

Completely insane.

Put to music.

He looked back down to his book, with a tiny grin, realizing how much fun this could be. He'd forgotten how much he missed the challenge of matching wits with people over his trivia knowledge. While this wasn't exactly matching wits, it was still a challenge to see how fast he could come up with the information at the same time as he was reading ancient Sanskrit.

And, honestly, fun wasn't a word he'd often use to describe his day.

Once he got into the mindset, he barely had to break concentration to provide Cloak with the information it wished.

Every now and then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cloak swaying to the rhythms, which caused a muffled chuckle.

Time passed, quickly, and Stephen suddenly noticed just how long he'd been sitting there. The suns rays had stretched into late afternoon, and he was getting hungry.

Disappointingly, nothing thus far appeared to be at all helpful. He sighed, with a small frown, laid the book aside, gave a stretch, commented,

'Moonlight Sonata, Beethoven,'

And, from behind him, Wongs' voice replied,

'Yes, I know,' nearly startling him out of his mind.

He jerked around, took a second to catch his breath, explained, chagrin,

'Sorry. Just thinking out loud.'

Wong narrowed his eyes at Cloak, floating nonchalantly close by, and Stephen thought he might have detected a small upward curve of his lips.

He came to his feet, not even going to try and explain the singularly unique relationship he had formed with his Cloak.

'Is something wrong?' he asked, brow furrowed with concern. Wong very seldom left Kamar-Taj, and almost never came without calling, first.

'I was cleaning and cataloging in the Masters section of the library, today,' Wong began, looking down at the decrepit books in his hands. The leather covers were peeled, the binding frayed. He pursed his lips, gripped the books tightly.

'I was in the top shelves of the farthest corner. I don't ever remember being there, before.'

He met Stephen's confused scowl, continued,

'I think these volumes hold information that may assist your search for Master Jade.'

Stephen's instant reaction was to look across the room, toward his portrait. He'd refused to return it to the Hall. Instead, he kept it here, as a reminder, of his self chosen duty to assist her.

He strode to Wong, carefully retrieving the battered books, with a sharp nod of thanks.

Wong returned the nod, and left, headed back to Kamar-Taj.

Stephen laid the books carefully on the desk, breath short with excitement.

He tossed a glance toward Cloak, said,

'I hope you're ready to pull an all-night study session.'

Cloak did a little shuffle, patted the speaker fondly, and moved to hover at the left arm of his chair. Clearly, as long as the tunes played, Cloak was in.

Stephen gave an intense grin, lifted the top book, and settled back with the ancient tome in his hands.

'Sound Of Silence. Remake, by Disturbed,' he whispered, and opened the cover.


	6. Hands Down

Five

Hands Down

Curled up like a beloved dog at the foot of its Chosen's bed, Cloak stirred. Lifted its' collar, one would say sleepily, if one thought a garment would actually need sleep.

Moonlight flooded the room, and it watched as Doctor Stephen Strange moved to stand before the huge glass windows, bathed in the silver beams. Cloak waited a few minutes, before shaking itself upright.

It had come to anticipate a full moon disrupting it's Chosen's sleep.

That, and cold nights.

This was both.

Cloak slid the tall backed chair across the floor, over in front of the window, and Stephen glanced back with a grateful smile.

Noticing he was shivering, Cloak fell onto his bare shoulders, wrapped him in a warming crimson swath as Stephen settled into the chair.

He massaged his scarred hands, face twinged with pain. Cloak fluttered, anxiously, confused, and Stephen gave a tenuous smile.

Then, realized he'd never told any of his history to his Cloak.

Which was a weird thought, no matter how you arranged it.

For some reason, he felt compelled to do so, tonight.

'I have eleven steel pins in my fingers. From injuries sustained in a car accident that should have killed me. Sometimes, especially when it's cold,...they hurt,' he explained.

Cloak curled a hem edge gently toward Stephen's hands, gave a soft stroke along the back.

'I was...a highly respected neurosurgeon. Pioneered medical techniques almost undreamed of.'

He paused, admitted,

'Also, a huge jerk.'

Cloak gave a disgruntled shiver, as if in disagreement, and Stephen laughed.

'I've made some changes.'

Cloak fluttered, as if it concurred.

Stephen smiled, bitterly, continued to rub his aching digits.

'There was also…..severe nerve damage. I couldn't change it, couldn't heal it, no matter how hard I tried. Now, my hands have an extremely limited sense of touch. I used to be able to close my eyes, and, with my fingertips, distinguish the line of a hair beneath eight layers of paper.'

He closed his eyes, sighed,

'Now, I can barely feel well enough, keep my hands steady enough, to hold a hair brush.'

Cloak quivered, a resonance of sadness, and curled a comforting wrap loosely around his forearm, tightened around his shoulders, like a hug.

Stephen fell silent, memories clamoring for release in his head.

He stared at his reflection, gilded argent, in the moonlit glass, and his voice fell, to barely above a whisper.

'Some of the incisions were so delicate they had to be made between the vibrations of my heartbeat. It was as if each...second...stretched into a lifetime.'

He displayed shaking hands, and tears, like sparkling diamonds, trailed down his cheeks.

'What I wouldn't give to have just one more of those seconds,' his voice turning to a desperate snarl,

'Just one, where my hands wouldn't shake.'

Cloak reached out, curled its hem edges around it's Chosens' hands, which had clenched into fists, and gently pulled them close to his chest.

Doing its best to help, the only way it knew how.

It's collar tenderly brushed away tears, and, as it did so, Stephen choked on a bitter sob,

'That's why it never entered my mind. About the gloves.'

Cloak's collar froze, mid-stroke, as Stephen admitted, forlornly,

'You can feel me, but my hands can't feel you.'

Cloak felt as if its very fibers were unraveling. It's folds loosened, fell limply away, with a quiver of pure sorrow.

'No, no,' Stephen snapped, growing angry, grabbing to pull Cloak back up around his arms and hands,

'I don't mean it like that. I don't resent…..'

He shook his head, eyes tight. Struggled to clarify what he meant.

'The Ancient One accused you of being fickle. She was wrong. I have come to know you, as the most loyal companion, most loyal friend, anyone could ask for.'

Cloak trembled, tightened a bit.

'And if this,' Stephen folded a shaking hand into Cloaks fabric, 'makes you, my friend, happy, I don't need hands to understand that.'

Cloak slowly retightened, and Stephen smiled, folded its scarlet softness into his arms, and laid trembling hands to it's comforting embrace.

He chuckled, as Cloak wiped away the last traces of his tears.

'Thank you,' he sighed, softly, closing his eyes, leaning back into the chair.

Cloak settled down tightly onto his shoulders, collar set in an attitude of contentment, and, rocking, ever so slightly, led its' Chosen to sleep.


	7. Night Games : Act One

Moving into a little darker realm with our favorite scarlet companion and its Chosen with this one. Expect far ranging repercussions.

As always ...PLEASE REVIEW!

* * *

Night Games

Act One

Cloak huddled on the cold tile floor of the dark hospital hallway, pressed against the closed door separating it from its Chosen. It paid no heed to darker crimson stains marring its scarlet, the drying blood of its Master.

Ignored the slashes in it's own fabric, where the assassins' unknown weapon had torn thru, harming its Chosen.

Harming Cloak, but that didn't matter.

The Woman, whom it had heard called Doctor Christine Palmer, had banished it out here. It complied, because Stephen trusted her.

Had told it to trust her.

It had carried him here, barely conscious, wrapped in its folds like a swaddled child. And now, it waited, miserably, unable to make out what any of the muffled voices on the other side of the door were saying.

It didn't hear Stephen's voice, and that, in itself, was nearly unendurable.

Outside the windows, the night was black, the thick dark of a new moon, accented by the rumble of thunder.

When it heard the low hiss of a gateway being opened, it snapped upright, scanning the darkest shadows of the hallway, but couldn't see anything.

The voice that came from the semidarkness was sibilant, enthralling, as it taunted,

'Locked out, in the hallway. Cast out, like a dog that's failed to defend it's master.'

A chilling, soft laugh.

'What further use could he possibly have for you?' the voice sneered, and a form coalesced from the shadows. A wave of cold rolled across the floor as he took a step toward Cloak, who shivered, fear. It immediately recognized this as the assassin who had attacked its Chosen, back at the Sanctum.

It had never, in its centuries of existence, encountered a being such as this.

Even though every thread tingled with the urge to retreat, it was clearly determined to hold its ground, denying access to the room where it's Chosen was.

The owner of the voice was tall, his clothes ebon, his hair and skin, blacker than coal. His eyes glittered, cold blue steel. A cloak, almost like smoke, floated from his shoulders.

'I must say. Your Master is in line to become very troublesome.'

His voice, velvet smooth. An accent, English clearly not his native tongue. A small puff congealed in the air with each word, as if his exhalation were colder than his surroundings.

'It would be rather nice to look forward to a few decades without the interference of a Sorcerer Supreme.'

Silver fangs glittered behind a cruel grin, a mock sigh, a shrug,

'So, he needs to go.'

Cloak crouched, prepared to spring into action, as the creature sized it up.

'Still, you are in the way,' he pouted, eyes slanting a threatening look toward the closed door.

Cloaks' collar snapped up, fury, and it jerked up from the floor, flew to attack.

Cloak was lightning fast.

But, so was the assassin.

His hand yanked something from within the folds of his cloak, held it between him and Cloaks' assault.

Too late, Cloak realized what he revealed in his grip.

It tried to stop, to dodge, anything to get away, but it was useless.

The black orb held by the assassin opened, a gaping maw of midnight wind, sucked Cloak in, then snapped shut.

Cloak vanished, as if it had never existed.

The assassin chuckled, pleased, eyed the baseball sized object in satisfaction.

Suddenly, the door opened, spilling bright blue light like a beacon into the hallway.

With a frustrated snarl, the assassin spun back, evaporated into the black gateway he had opened, closed it behind.

A second later, Doctor Christine Palmer leaned out, face twisted in confusion as she called, hesitantly,

'Ah, hello? Stephens'….cloak?'

She took a step out, looking up and down the empty hallway. Ran a hand thru her hair, groaned,

'Perfect. Just….perfect.'


	8. Night Games Act Two

Act Two

Earlier That Day

The day had begun with more excitement than usual.

For several weeks, Stephen had been referencing and translating the books Wong had provided him, interspersed with having to deal with a few minor inter-dimensional threats.

This morning, while bent over a mountain of notes, and books, he suddenly jerked to his feet, nearly knocking over the tall backed chair.

'I think I have something,' he exclaimed, excitedly, shuffling papers, moving books, flipping pages.

Cloak, who, as always, was hovering close by, enjoying the music that had become a regular part of life, quirked its' collar.

A broad smile claiming his features, as he nodded, Stephen chortled,

'This…this might be it. I need to get another book, or two, from Kamar-Taj,…but finally, I should have enough information to present to Hank Pym.'

Cloak did a jolly little jig, pulling a hearty laugh from Stephen.

He laid the volume aside, rubbed his hands together, feeling as if he was finally going to make some serious progress in his search for Master Jade.

'Off to Kamar-Taj,' he decided.

Then, his phone rang.

Irritably, he looked at the caller ID, gave an exasperated sigh.

'Stark,' he grumbled, to Cloak, and answered.

Cloak gave an annoyed ripple, because any time its' Chosen had dealings with Tony Stark, it was certain to completely mess up whatever plans had already been laid.

This time was no different.

* * *

It was much later in the day when Stephen and Cloak were finally able to head off to Kamar-Taj, and visit the library.

When they finally returned to New York, it was the small hours of the morning. While the city certainly never slept, all was quiet at 177A Bleecker street, the only light in the building being a soft yellow glow in the giant round window topping the roof.

Stephen made his way thru the unlit Sanctum, confidently, not much in need of light to navigate this building, anymore. There was also lightning flashing outside, offering more than enough ambient illumination to traverse his home.

He stepped into his dark study, and Cloak floated from his shoulders, giving a shake as Stephen went to lay the books on his desk.

He reached toward the small desk lamp, but froze before touching it, as an unfamiliar sound caught his attention.

The hair at the nape of his neck prickled, an intuition of danger.

Brow furrowed, he turned, faced the shadows on the far side of the room.

'Show yourself,' he growled, freeing his hands to raise either shield, or weapon. Instantly, Cloak flew to his shoulders, prepared to defend Stephen.

Lightning lit the room, briefly, but long enough for Stephen to see a sable form, with bright eyes, solidify in the shadows. He came forward, confidently, a cloak swirling from his shoulders. Hands emerged from its diaphanous folds, clenched around something sparkling. It drew back, threw, and Cloak intervened, blocking all the glittering shards that flashed thru the air.

Except, it didn't.

They tore thru Cloak, as if it didn't exist. Into Stephen, who gave a surprised grunt of pain, stumbled back against the desk. Looking down, he saw blood spring from half a dozen punctures covering his chest.

The raven colored figure stepped closer, and Cloak, confused, raised itself between Stephen and him, again.

Stephen found his feet, managed to conjure a shield just as the second assault was launched.

Whatever the weapons were, the shield scattered them, pinging to the floor like hail.

The assassin laughed, ducked back into the shadows as a bolt of lightning lit the room.

Gasping, Stephen gripped his chest with his free hand, realizing one lung was filling with blood.

Another bright flash from outside revealed the assassin, flanking them, already launching another assault.

Stephen's shield crackled, partially failed, allowed more of the shards through.

This was bad. Stephen and Cloak both knew it.

The storm was really ramping up, outside, keeping the room almost continuously lit. Rain began to slam against the glass, crinkling the shadows into bizarre patterns.

Stephen kept scanning the gloom, reforming his shield as large as he could make it.

Cloak held its' edges up, protectively, despite its earlier failure to block the weapons.

'You need to distract him,' Stephen panted, voice low, into Cloaks collar, pulling on his sling ring.

'We have to get out of here. I can't open a gateway, and keep the shield up.'

Cloak jerked a sharp nod, indicating it understood, swiveling its collar in an attempt to locate their assailant.

'There,' Stephen hissed, a tip of his head.

The ebon figure hesitated, just beyond the edge of light flickering thru the windows, a feral snarl twisting its features. Both hands were balled up, prepared to launch a double barrage.

'Now!' Stephen barked, and Cloak flew straight at the astonished attacker, blasted him backwards, into the wall, hard. He hit with a loud thump, went down. His cloak seemed to dissipate, like a mist, but quickly reformed around him.

Cloak spun, raced back toward its Chosen, who already had the gateway open. The assailant snapped to his feet, just in time to see Stephen and Cloak disappearing into the closing gateway.

With a bemused smile, the assassin laughed,

'Excellent. I was afraid this was going to be easy.'

He tugged up the smokey, ethereal collar of his own cloak, opened a flat black gateway, and left, to continue the hunt.

* * *

Stephen collapsed to the hard tile floor of the hospital, hands and knees, bowed with pain. Spat a mouthful of blood, sat back on his heels, struggling to pull his phone with one hand while gripping his chest with the other.

Cloak floated, anxiously, swaying back and forth, uncertain what to do.

Stephen sent out a text to Christine Palmer, short and simple;

-Emergency my theater need anesthesiologist-

Hit send, looked up at Cloak.

'Alright, listen. You have to wrap around my chest,' he wheezed, watching the blood pool beneath him as his head began to swim.

'Tightly, do you understand, tight….'

Cloak suddenly realized, with horror, just how badly its Chosen was injured, and instantly wrapped round his chest, like a compression bandage.

'Whoof…' Stephen huffed, 'I have to breathe…' and Cloak loosened, slightly.

Stephen nodded, approval, fighting for each breath now.

His phone pinged, Christine's reply,

-On my way-

Stephen clenched his eyes, tight, relief, jammed his phone back into his pocket. Instructed,

'Don't loosen until Doctor Palmer is ready, or I will most certainly bleed to death. You remember her?'

Cloak nodded, turning in a confused circle in the unfamiliar, dark hallway.

'You can trust her…do whatever she says.'

Stephen gripped Cloak, gasped,

'Down…Down this hallway…left turn…first door…on the right….' And fell limp in Cloaks grasp.

Cloak shook him, urgently, but gently, and when it got no response, bolted down the hallway to the room Stephen had directed him to.

Cloak blasted thru the door, and The Woman burst in, immediately behind, turning on blazing bright lights.

She froze, uncertainly, but saw Stephen's pale face, his unmoving body, held by the crimson guardian, and pulled herself together.

She leaned over him, insisted, urgently,

'Stephen. Stephen.'

He moaned, eyelids fluttered, but didn't open.

'Damn,' she hissed, looking at Cloak.

She'd seen the garment, before. Didn't claim to understand what was going on, but that story could wait.

'On the table,' she ordered, and Cloak complied, gently, without loosing its grip.

Christine's experienced gaze made a lightning fast diagnosis, and she ordered, briskly,

'It's alright, you can let go. My assistant will be here, any second. You need to wait in the hallway. If he sees you, he isn't going to be any help, at all.'

She was already assembling instruments, bandages, with crisp, practiced ease.

Slowly, hesitantly, Cloak unfurled its' beloved Chosen, shuffled aside so The Woman had access to him.

She took a sharp breath at what she saw, then tossed a glance at Cloak, jerked her head toward the door, insisted,

'Please,' and Cloak left.

* * *

It was cold; bitter, black cold.

Completely silent.

Cloak couldn't even hear the swish of its' own fabric as it swirled, profound confusion, which was rapidly turning to terror.

It raced in circles, searching for the edges of its' prison.

Up, down.

No ceiling, no floor, no walls.

No light, of any kind.

Cloak knew the relic that had captured it, the stories of the horror of being confined within.

What it didn't know was how its Chosen would ever find it.

How he would ever even know what to look for.

If he was even alive.

Realizing it had failed to do its job: protect its' Chosen.

What kind of companion was that?

Finally, it slowed to a halt.

Hung, trembling.

Absolutely alone, in the endless silence.


	9. Night Games Act Three

Act Three

Swimming in an ocean of black, Stephen heard the distant blur of someone, calling his name.

'Stephen. Stephen, I'm sorry. You have to wake up.'

Christine.

Realization of what had happened flooded back, and Stephen clawed his way free of the anesthesia. Opened his eyes, to see Christine bending over him, face twisted with concern.

He blinked, blearily, trying to clear away the fog.

She smiled, tenderly, apologized,

'I need to move you to a room. There are surgeries scheduled in this theater, today.'

Stephen shook his head, adamantly, mumbled,

'No, I need to go home.'

What he didn't say was that he feared the assassin might reappear.

He wasn't in any shape to battle whatever it was, and needed time to research a defense.

Christine shook her head, insisted,

'You need to stay here. You should be on monitors.'

Stephen offered a weak smile,

'Sorry, Christine, I can't.'

Seeing just how concerned she was, he offered, flippantly,

'You could make a house call. 177- A Bleecker Street. Greenwich Village. Just swing by, check on me,' pulling a smile to her face.

'No one just 'swings by' Greenwich Village,' she replied, a teasing tone, and he chuckled, agreement.

She pursed her lips, plainly wanting to ask a question. He waited, until she finally asked,

'Why here, this theater?'

He shrugged,

'I knew there would be no traffic in this part of the hospital, that time of night.'

Added, slyly, 'I can't keep arriving via the mop closet. Eventually, someone will get suspicious.'

Christine gave a snort of amusement, shook her head. He shared her smile, then grew serous.

Struggled to sit up, and Christine supported his efforts.

He perused his heavily bandaged chest, with a grimace. As the effects of the anesthetic wore off completely, it was going it hurt like Hell.

And, since every wound had been a puncture, heal very slowly.

As he sat, catching his breath, refastening his shirt, she suggested,

'Maybe you should stop doing whatever this is you're doing. It doesn't seem like you're very good at it.'

Stephen chuckled, then sucked a quick breath to cover the sharp stab of pain.

'There's definitely a learning curve,' he admitted, and Christine rolled her eyes, hands on hips.

'Practice makes perfect,' he reminded, and she amended,

'Only perfect practice makes perfect.'

'Boom!' Stephen replied, weakly, forcing her to smile, over the worry in her eyes.

'Do you want me to call you a cab?' she asked.

Stephen shook his head,

'Nope,' suddenly realizing he didn't see his Cloak, anywhere.

That wasn't normal.

'My Cloak? Where is it?' he asked, apprehensively, looking around the room.

Christine squinched her eyes tight, made a face, admitted,

'I left it in the hallway.'

Stephen just stared, uncomprehending, dropped his feet to the floor. His knees folded, but he caught his balance on the table, managed to get his feet under him. He staggered to the door, pushed it open, and looked out at an empty corridor.

Braced against the doorframe, he looked back at her, disbelief,

'You left it…in the hallway?'

Christine came to stand beside him, obviously upset,

'You know I needed help. How would I explain it?'

Stephen scanned the hallway, both directions, feeling panic growing in his chest.

Christine offered,

'Maybe it just left?' feeling ridiculous as the words left her mouth, but Stephen took her suggestion very seriously.

'No. Never,' he shot back, with a glare.

'Could someone have taken it?'

'Not without a fight,' he snarled.

Anger, and fear, rushed adrenaline into his system, and all at once, his mind seemed crystal clear.

Priorities.

First, and foremost, he needed to find out what had happened to Cloak.

He needed to identify the weapon, that could tear thru his cloak so readily.

He needed to identify his attacker, as well.

And, he needed to get his Cloak back.

'You need to send me the security footage, of this corridor. As in, now. Where are the shards you removed?'

She shook her head,

'Gone. I put them in the pan, and, when I finished, there were just bits of dust.'

Stephen growled, frustrated, chin to chest,

'I'll need to take that with me.'

Christine hurried to find a bag, checking her watch against the arrival time of the surgical prep team.

Stephen gathered his strength, straightened, but kept one shoulder leaned against the wall.

Christine stuffed the bag into his hand, and he jammed it into a pocket, raising hands to open a gateway.

As the sparkling ring widened, Christine assured,

'I'll go right to security, get that footage to you.'

Stephen nodded, too preoccupied to worry about the confusion on her face.

Just before stepping thru, into his study, he met her unhappy eyes, and his expression softened, briefly. He offered a gentle smile,

'Thank you, Christine.'

She shrugged, nodded,

'Of course.'

He stepped thru, then turned back, his features gone cold.

'I'll be fine. No need to come to Greenwich Village,' he said, over his shoulder, and the gateway snapped shut, sprinkling across the floor into oblivion.


	10. Nigh Games Act Four

Act Four

Stephen stepped away from the closing gateway, into his study, which was a shambles. The late morning sun, pouring thru the giant windows, illuminated tipped furniture, broken glass, books and papers scattered to the floor.

Picking his way thru the mess, he couldn't help but turn attention to Cloaks' familiar hanging spots, even though he knew he wouldn't see it.

'Strange!' Wong's voice barked, from behind, spinning him around more quickly than he should have moved.

Dizzily, he grabbed the edge of the desk, gripped his chest with the other hand, met Wongs' upset gaze.

Wong came quickly across the room, surveying the signs of the struggle which had occurred. Seeing Stephen's pale face, the blood on his clothes, he picked the tall backed chair up.

Slid it over, just in time for Stephen to collapse into it.

Stephen gave a grateful nod, with an amused quirk of his lips as he saw the concern on Wongs' normally stoic features.

He must look pretty bad, to merit something other than 'Wong face'.

'You weren't answering your texts, or your phone. You were due in Kamar-Taj, today,' Wong explained, flatly, with a pointed scan of the room.

Stephen shrugged, threw a hand up, indicating the wreck that was his study, and shook is head.

'What happened?' Wong demanded.

'An assassin, I have to assume, since he tried to kill me,' Stephen replied, and his voice turned to a snarl,

'I believe he's taken Cloak.'

Wongs' expression turned to stone, and he said, quietly,

'If you, the Master of New York, are being attacked, we may assume it to be the beginning of an assault on earth, precipitated by the death of the Sorcerer Supreme. The dark forces who feared her will be testing our defenses. I will put all Masters, and disciples, on alert.'

Stephen nodded, agreement.

'Did you see the assassin?' Wong asked.

Stephen nodded, preparing to launch into a description, when he heard a ping from his phone.

Checked it, to see a text from Christine.

-Footage sent to your email. Take care-

He looked around for his MacBook, spotted it beneath the desk. Bent to retrieve it, with a grimace, and, as he opened it, explained,

'Cloak went missing while we were at the hospital. Hopefully the security cameras caught it.'

Wong slanted an odd look his direction, asked,

'You were at a hospital?'

Stephen grimaced, indicated his ripped, bloody tunic.

'Metro-General. Needed a little help, with all this.'

'You have contacts there?'

Stephen nodded, reminded, sarcastically,

'I was a pretty well known neurosurgeon, before all this. I still have a few friends….'

Wong made a weird, stifled sound.

Stephen tossed a quick look at Wong, amended, chagrin,

'Alright,….one. One friend. Thank goodness for that, or you'd have found me in the morgue.'

He opened the file from Christine, and Wong leaned over his shoulder to watch.

The footage was quite dark, even enhanced, so both men were forced to lean in closely.

They saw Cloak fly into the operating theater, Stephen in its folds, Christine run in, immediately after. A minute later, Cloaks' subsequent banishment. Then, the arrival of another person in scrubs.

Cloak, clinging miserably to the closed door, then its sudden snap toward something hidden in the shadows of the hallway.

Stephen felt his breath catch, watching, as the tall, ebon being approached his Cloak.

'He could be a dimension jumper,' Wong breathed, brow furrowed, 'and, that would be bad.'

'Ah, if only there was sound,' Stephen muttered,

'Look,' pointing out the little puffs of cold congealing in the shadows as he spoke to Cloak. Wong nodded, agreement.

When Cloak vanished into the orb, Stephen paused the video, leaned back against the chair, hard, feeling as if he'd been punched in the stomach.

The expression on the face of the assassin was gloating as he smiled at the orb in his hand, and that made Stephen even more furious.

Wong straightened, and his expression was rather more grim than usual.

Stephen waited, silently, for his friend to speak, because he obviously knew something.

'I don't know this being, but I do know this relic,' he said, pointing to the black orb held by the assassin.

'It was stolen when the London Sanctum fell to Kaecilius. It is the Gyve of Noctem Eternus. The Shackles of Eternal Night.'

Stephen, his brow furrowed, asked,

'What is it?'

'Exactly what it sounds like. A prison, with no sound, touch, or light. No walls, floors, ceiling. Only darkness. Minutes are like days, hours, like years.'

Listening as Wong described the relic, Stephen felt a knot form in his chest.

Cloak loved being touched. And, music. To deprive it of those things, condemn it to never ending night, was cruelty beyond forgiveness.

'Stephen.'

All at once, he realized Wong had asked him a question, and he scowled,

'I'm sorry, what?'

Wong gave a flat stare, repeated,

'What did you see, here? What was his weapon?'

Stephen shook his head, running thru the attack in his mind.

'He attacked from the dark. He had some type of daggers, more like shards. They almost looked like black glass. They were so cold, they burned,' Stephen said, wincing at the memory.

'They tore thru Cloak, but bounced off a mandala rune shield.'

Stephen shifted in the chair, to get to his pocket, pulled out the bag of dust Christine had given him.

Handed it to Wong, with a confused shrug.

'This is what's left of them, after they were pulled out.'

Wong held the bag up to the light, scowling.

'I will take this to Kamar-Taj. One of the other Masters may know more. Also, send me that video.'

With a few keystrokes, the video was sent, and Stephen powered the computer down.

'The wisest Masters will review it, as soon as I return to Kamar-Taj.'

Stephen nodded, tiredly, braced his hands against the desk to regain his feet.

Wong almost offered a hand, didn't. Instead, he decided,

'We will set a watch, over the Sanctum, for you.'

'No!' Stephen snapped, 'He needs to think I'm vulnerable, so he'll come back at me.'

'Well, you are,' Wong reminded, with his best Wong face to back the statement up.

'I know that,' Stephen admitted, frustrated. Closed his eyes, said, still leaning both hands against the desk,

'Just….help me figure this thing out before he returns.'

'You think he will?'

'I have no doubt of it,' Stephen gritted out.

He looked at Wong, fully prepared to get an argument.

Instead, Wong studied his battered appearance, suggested,

'You should be safe sleeping in the mirror dimension.'

'Oh, 'should be'? ' Stephen said, rolling his eyes as he straightened.

'I'll be back, shortly,' Wong informed, and left Stephen alone in the wrecked study.

* * *

After a shower, fresh clothes and bandages, and a few hours sleep, Stephen felt able to clean up the worst of the mess in his study, at least enough so that he could concentrate on exactly what had happened.

God is in the details, it was said, and, more than once, he had found that to be true. Closing his eyes, he replayed the scene in his memory, and when he reached the spot where the shards had bounced off his shield, his eyes snapped open.

'They bounced off,' he muttered, and began to search the far edges of the room.

In a dark corner, he spotted a faint glint, and fished one of the silver black shards out of the shadows.

As he turned it in his grip, it felt like a sliver of ice, dagger shaped. Sharp as a scalpel.

Scowling, he carried it to lay on the desk, wondering if he might find a reference in one of the books back at the library, perhaps the Lexicon of Relics.

He snapped a picture, texted it to Wong, along with a request for any books that might be helpful.

The late afternoon sun was fading into the lavender of twilight when Wong returned, bearing a stack of books, and several weapons. Stephen recognized a Wand of Watoomb, a quarterstaff, and a few other selections as Wong unloaded them to his desktop.

Stephen was sitting there, staring at a small pile of dust, that sparkled like ground obsidian.

'We have not found anything, as of yet,' Wong began, piling the books next to him on the floor. When Stephen didn't respond, he leaned over, with a curious scowl.

Before he could ask, Stephen said,

'The dagger shard. It turned to dust, in the light.'

Looked at Wong, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

'He attacked, at night. Stayed in the shadows, when he was here. Took Cloak, in the dark.'

Stephen snapped open his computer, hit play on the security footage, allowed it to play past Cloaks abduction. Stabbed a finger at the screen, noted,

'When Christine opened the door. He dodged the light.'

Wongs' expression intensified, and he decided,

'He is from a Night realm, then. Light will weaken him.'

'Kill him?'

Wong shook his head, uncertainly,'

'We won't know until we can try it.'

'Can eldritch weapons defeat him?' Stephen wondered, and Wong gave a serious nod, unwilling to raise false hope,

'Possibly.'

Wong pulled a book from the stack, pulled up a chair, began shuffling to pages in silence, and Stephen did likewise.

Darkness fell as they searched the ancient pages, and shadows crept into the corners of the room, the only island of light provided by the desk lamp.

Stephen was so absorbed that when a chime rang, rather loudly, he startled, looked around, not quite sure if he should be concerned.

Wong was unaffected, met Stephen's confusion with a simple statement,

'It's the doorbell.'

'There's a doorbell?' Stephen asked, surprised.

'How else will you get your UPS?' Wong said, stating the obvious, as he came to his feet.

'Were you expecting someone?'

'Not really….' Stephen replied, then realized he had given Christine his address.

'Actually, it might be my Doctor.'

Wongs' eyebrows raised, and he commented,

'The woman in the video.'

Stephen nodded, with a tiny grin.

Wong snorted, rolled his eyes, laid his book down.

'I'll get the door,' and headed out of the study.

As Wongs' footsteps receded, Stephen heard his phone ping, realized he'd left it sitting on the nightstand. Stood, headed toward the dark bedroom to retrieve it.

When he reached the darkest spot in the study, he heard it.

Bathed in the shadows, he froze, turned to face the quiet hiss of an opening gateway. He snapped a shield up, instantly. It's golden glow undulated like firelight along the ember form of the assassin, who flashed silver fangs in a cruel smile. His bright eyes glittered with malice. Stephen felt the air temperature drop, saw the puff of his breath. Even his gateway behind him was a cold, flat black, gave off only a faint silver blue sparkle.

Cursing silently, Stephen looked past him to the desk, where all the weapons Wong had brought were laying.

The assassin obviously realized he was between Stephen and the weaponry, too.

So, Stephen did the only thing he could think of; stall.

'Who are you?' he growled, and the being sketched a brief bow, without taking his eyes off Stephen. His cloak swirled around him, confusing the eye with its movements.

'I am known by many names. In this dimension, I am called Sable, last of my kind,' and Stephen noticed an accent.

Sable added,

'I have given an oath.'

'Oh, really,' Stephen snarked, unimpressed, and Sable gave an unnerving chuckle,

'To kill you,' he clarified, and Stephen answered with a short, angry laugh.

Sable looked around the room, eyeing the weapon covered desktop.

'I see you have learned something about me,' gesturing toward his shield, and glancing toward the weapons.

'More than you think, I wager,' Stephen taunted, drawing another laugh from Sable.

'Not enough, I think.'

Stephen took a step forward.

With a flinch, Sable gave ground before the shield, and Stephen narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth in a grin,

'I guess we'll see,' and took another step.

Sable snarled, raised his hands, and the silver shards glittered, wickedly. He hurled them at Stephen, and they bounced off the shield, crackling. Gaps in the mandalas opened, forcing Stephen to reform it.

Sable lunged, hands against the shield, but it held, snapping and sparking like a grounded electric line.

The attack forced Stephen backwards several steps, but Sable wasn't able to maintain the assault, and had to retreat, hissing and shaking his hands.

All at once, the study door swung open.

Wong, with Christine close behind.

The four of them froze, then everything happened at once.

Wong dove for the weapons on the desktop.

Christine ducked behind the doorframe with a shriek.

Sables attention held, just a second, on Wong, and that was a second too long.

Stephen dropped the shield, formed an eldritch whip, and lashed out, catching Sable around the throat.

He jerked, hard, reeled the assassin in, Sables' back to his chest.

Wrapping his free arm around Sables throat, Stephen cinched another loop of the whip around his chest, for a better hold.

That was when Sables' cloak made its true nature known.

The smokey cloak attacked, swarmed Stephen, like bees, or ants, stinging, tingling, blocking his vision, tugging at his clothes, but, instead of forcing Stephen to loosen the whip, he tightened it. Sables flesh smoked, and he gave a squeal of pain, struggling violently, but couldn't break Stephen's determined grip.

He slammed Stephen's injuries with an elbow, drawing fresh blood from his wounds, but Stephen ignored it.

Rage gave him strength.

Sables' ebon cloak, realizing it couldn't make any headway against Stephen, returned to its Master, attempting to loosen the whip, burning little bits of itself into dust.

'Give me back my cloak, asshole,' Stephen snarled, into his ear, 'or, I'll hold you, until I see if sunrise can turn you into dust.'

Sable gave a vicious shake, nearly broke free, but Stephen jerked the whip tighter around both throat, and chest.

Thrashing futilely, Sable pulled the orb from a misty fold of his cloak, held it so Stephen could clearly see it.

All at once, Stephen realized just how close to Sables' black gateway they were.

Arms' length.

Sable extended the orb toward the swirling gateway, threatened, half choking,

'Me, or the Gyve. One, or the other, goes in. I swear…that if it's the Gyve… your will never find your Cloak.'

Wong, holding his ground between Sable, and Christine, looked at Stephen, shook his head, knowing what Stephen was contemplating.

But, for Stephen, there was only one choice.

He snapped the whip free, snatched the Gyve, clutched it tight to his chest.

Sable, his ebon cloak tight against his shoulders, dove into his gateway, and both he, and the gateway, disappeared.

Gasping, Stephen fell to his knees, gripped the Gyve with both shaking hands, and opened it.

Cloak tumbled to the floor, in a cloud of frosty cold mist, like a garment falling from a hanger.

Stephen closed the Gyve, handed it to Wong, and lifted his crimson companion to his lap, 'Cloak,' he whispered, wrapping his hands into it's tattered, unmoving folds.


	11. Night Games Act Five

Act Five

A freezing whirlwind whipped around Cloak, spun it into a dizzying vortex, swirling it thru the noiseless dark, toward a speck of light.

Spitting it out, into the light, reborn into the world from which it had been taken, what seemed like years ago.

Barely cognizant of it surroundings, numb from its' time in the Gyve, it crumpled to the floor, unable to do anything more.

Then, it felt the trembling, gentle touch of its' Chosen, gathering it up onto his lap.

When Stephens' distraught voice registered in its' consciousness, it realized its' Chosen had never given up searching for it. It reached out a ragged hem to wrap around Stephens hand, gave a feeble ruffle, almost like a sigh. It was home, and its' Chosen would care for it.

* * *

Stephens' fingers ran across the battered surface of his Cloak, alarmed by its' lack of response. Tears and stains marred its once beautiful crimson. It had always felt warm, but now, it was cold, limp, inanimate.

He realized that Wong and Christine had come to stand beside him, and Christine laid a hand to his shoulder,

'Stephen. You're bleeding. Let me change your bandages.'

'I'm fine,' he snapped, causing her to back away, and then he closed his eyes, apologized,

'I'm sorry. But, I need to take care of my Cloak, first.'

He gathered Cloak into his arms, found his feet, realized just how frightened and confused she looked. Kicked himself, mentally.

This was semi-normal stuff for his life, but ultra weird for hers.

'Ah, I'm sorry…Doctor Christine Palmer, this is Wong. Wong, Doctor Palmer.'

'Just Wong?' Christine wondered, brow furrowed, 'Like, Adele?'

Wong, still holding a Wand of Watoomb at the ready, gave an 'are you kidding me?' look, and Stephen interrupted,

'Moving on….Christine, I promise I'll explain…all this…at least, as much as I can. I'll get you home, if you could just, please, wait until…'

Christine waved away his concern, assured,

'Its fine, really. Maybe I can help?'

Stephens face collapsed into a grateful smile, and he said, gratefully,

'Please.'

She nodded, added firmly,

'Then, you let me take care of you.'

Wong had built a fire in the giant fireplace in Stephens' bedroom, turned on more lights to chase the shadows away, and then disappeared somewhere in the Sanctum, on some unnamed errand.

Stephen carried Cloak, still damp from its much needed bath, to sit with it in his lap. He'd moved the tall backed chair into the room, to set close by the warming flames.

Sadly, he examined the tears made by the shards it had blocked, now raveling. Its' once soft surface appeared rough, abraded, as if it had endured years of harsh weather. Its' edges were tattered, along the hem and collar.

Cloak curled into his arms, and lay there, shivering, but otherwise unmoving, clinging to its' Chosen.

Christine busied herself readying bandages, piling them along with other medical supplies onto the large table that sat close by.

'Christine, would you mind…turning on that speaker?' Stephen asked, softly, and Christine leaned across the table, tapped it on. Music filtered into the air, accenting the crackle of flames from the fireplace.

'Now, your turn,' she insisted, facing him, hands on hips, indicating he remove his shirt.

Stephen scowled, wanted to refuse, but had no basis for denying her request, so he complied, careful not to disturb Cloak.

Unwrapping his bandages, she made a face over the state of his wounds, but decided not to make a fuss.

Instead, she just quietly tended what needed done, watching Stephens concerned face as he examined his Cloaks' damage.

He was silent, wincing occasionally. When she leaned in close to wrap the bandages around his chest, he met her eyes. His gaze was so intense she paused, not certain what to expect, and her breath shortened.

Stephen leaned his face close, eyes closed, brushed her cheek with his, a sigh, then looked back down at Cloak.

Confused, she waited a few seconds, then continued, her composure more than a little rattled.

She was finishing up when he blurted out,

'I'm not sure what to do,' an edge of despair in his voice.

Christine shook her head, a grin touching her lips, she teased, relaxing slightly,

'That's not the Stephen I know.'

He glanced at her, a flicker of amusement, quickly lost.

'Can't you stitch it up?' she offered, as she stood, but Stephen shook his head,

'It's not that simple, I'm sure. This isn't just a piece of fabric.'

'So I've noticed.'

'You can't use normal needle and thread,' Wong verified, as he came into the room, drawing their attention to him.

Handing Stephen what appeared to be a sewing kit, he explained,

'You will have to use this. It hasn't been needed for some time, but, occasionally, even relics require repair.'

Stephen pulled out the large bobbin of scarlet thread, examined the assortment of sparkling platinum needles. Looked at his trembling fingers, then clenched them into fists, eyes tight. Recalling the days when the task of a few hundred delicate stitches was a welcome challenge.

Not a terrifying prospect.

'I'll thread that, for you,' Christine offered, a catch in her voice, the glitter of tears in her eyes, and Stephen handed everything to her.

After a moment, she returned the needle, trailing a length of crimson thread, and offered a quivering smile.

Stephen took a deep breath, summoned every ounce of will in an attempt to lessen the shake of his hands as he gathered tight the edges of the first slash, ready to stitch.

A simple task he'd performed hundreds of times before, no longer simple.

He sat, long moments, summoning the courage to insert the needle, knot the first stitch.

Slowly, Cloak curled one edge of its' hem around his forearm, the first real movement since it had returned, drawing a sad chuckle from Stephen.

'I should let you do this, Christine,' Stephen admitted, suddenly, 'I'll only make a mess of it,' and held the needle toward her. She stepped up, with a nod, but, as she reached for the needle, Cloak calmly, but firmly, pulled Stephens' hand back.

Surprised, he looked at his scarlet companion, asked,

'You're sure? Her sutures are as beautiful as a DaVinci. Mine will be more like a Picasso.'

Cloak kept its' hem wrapped around its Chosen's wrist, a moment longer, then released its hold with a soft stroke along the back of his hand.

Christine gave a wobbly smile around the sadness on her face, and shrugged, observed,

'Patients' rights.'

Stephen drew a deep breath, nodded,

'Picasso, it is,' and bent to his task.

The initial stitches weren't at all pretty, but once he got into a rhythm of working with the shake of his hands, instead of against it, things went more smoothly.

When Christine stepped into the study to put away the medical supplies, Wong came to stand alongside Stephen.

'He is not defeated,' Wong rumbled, and his tone was accusatory.

Irritated, Stephen focused on his needlework, scowled, agreed, shortly,

'Nope.'

`He'll be back.'

Stephen glanced up at Wong, said, shortly,

'Yup. He said he swore an oath to kill me,' then looked back down to his stitching.

'You are outmatched. You need help,'

Wong warned, wearing his most fierce Wong face.

Stephen bit his lip, forced a smile, gave a small shake of his head, but didn't look up, didn't reply.

Finishing the last stitch, he knotted the thread, cut it as close as he could, returned the needle to its place in the kit.

Annoyed by Stephen's silence, Wong squared his shoulders, observed,

'It seems as long as there is light, you will remain undisturbed. I will return to Kamar-Taj, consult with the Masters, gather suggestions.'

Stephen nodded, but made no comment, just looked toward Christine as she came back into the room.

'I've held Christine up, long enough. I need to get her home,' he said, changing the subject as he stood, carefully laid Cloak back into the chair.

'Oh, I'll just call a cab,' she assured him, but Stephen shook his head, went to stand by her.

'We can discuss this more, tomorrow,' he suggested to Wong, who nodded, irritably, and, with a small bow to Christine, left for the gateway in the downstairs foyer.

Stephen pulled his sling ring from his belt, faced the room, and opened a gateway to her loft.

She slanted him an odd, look, asked,

'How…did you know I still live here?'

He gave her a warm smile, and a wink.

'I'm not completely out of the loop, Christine.'

A shrug, 'I want to make sure you're safe.'

She laughed, absolutely lost as to what was going on, but hoped that she could find all that out, later.

He took her hand, stepped toward the gateway, prepared to guide her through, when she stopped, asked, fear underlying her tone,

'Do you think there are any more of those things out there?'

Stephen laughed, admiring how her eyes sparkled in the glittering orange light of the gateway. Admitted,

'Honestly, I have no idea what's out there.'

'That's my brutally honest Stephen,' she smiled, dropped her gaze, shyly, made an extra adjustment to the bandages around his chest.

Stephen took her hand in his, placed a tender kiss to its back.

'Maybe, in a couple nights, I could drop by, with, say, some wine, and cheese? Make an attempt to explain?'

She met his earnest expression, and, after a moments hesitation, nodded,

'All right.'

Just as he was about to allow her to step thru, Stephen offered, by way of explanation,

'We take care of each other. Cloak, and I.'

A tiny frown between her brows, she searched his eyes, and gave a nod,

'I can see that,' she agreed, and stepped into her loft, watching as the gateway swirled shut, and Stephen was left watching it sprinkle into nothing across his floor.

He gave a sigh, paused briefly to turn the volume up on the speaker now that he and Cloak were alone. Then, returned to lift Cloak back into his lap as he settled down in front of the fireplace.

Briefly, he examined his stitch work on the over half dozen injuries, a small grimace over its lack of beauty. As he did, he noticed Cloak felt warmer, and its' rich appearance seemed somewhat restored as it had dried.

Then, on his forearm,

Tap, tap.

A huge grin split his face, and he smoothed Cloak, draped across his arm, informed,

'French Letter. J-Walk.'

Cloak gave a ripple, a gentle pass of its cloth over its' Chosens' bandaged chest, and Stephen looked into the fireplace flames, with a fierce scowl, muttered,

'Yes, my friend, the creature Sable has a lot to answer for. I hope I'm up to it. I hope you're up to it.'

Cloak gave a small, insulted fluff, and made as if it would float up, but Stephen laughed, quietly, curled his scarlet comrade back into his arms, murmured ,

'Tomorrow. Tomorrow, is soon enough.'


	12. Night Games : Act Six - Finale

Act Six

Finale

The fire had burned to glowing embers on the hearth, and the early morning sun was streaking onto the floor when Stephen was awakened by Cloak. Uncoiling from its' cozy spot around its' Chosens' shoulders, it gave a hearty shake, and went to hover in the sunshine.

Stephen stood, stretched, stiff from spending so many hours in the chair.

Also, probably from his injuries, as well as last nights battle, but he could rather ignore it in his happiness at seeing his crimson comrade so much improved.

He was pulling on a fresh shirt, and looking forward to some tea and breakfast, when he heard Wongs' distinctive footsteps crossing the study.

Annoyed, he actually scowled at Wong as he came into the room.

'Wow. You've already got it all figured out?' he grumbled, walking back past Wong into his study.

Cloak settled onto his shoulders, pulling a smile to Stephen's face, but made sure Wong didn't see it.

Wong wasn't at all pleased to be treated with such a borderline disrespectful attitude.

'No,' he snapped,' I've come to ask that you return with me to Kamar-Taj, for your own safety. At least, until more is understood.'

Stephen stopped short, turned, and Wong nearly ran into him.

'This Sanctum is my home. I won't leave it undefended,' Stephen growled, brows knotted.

Wong glared, having already expected that response.

'You cannot face that entity alone. We know nothing about him.'

'First of all, I have no intention of facing him alone,' Stephen shot back,

'Second, he is named Sable, self-proclaimed last of his kind. He's from a night realm, and can't tolerate light, or eldritch weapons. He's got a cloak that's an evil version of mine. I'd say that's a bit more than nothing.'

Wong was forced into a short nod of agreement, but fell in behind Stephen as he continued on to the kitchen.

'Look,' Stephen offered, cranking his attitude down a notch as he put a kettle on to boil,

'I'm going to spend the day, and the night, and however long it takes, to get thru those books you brought yesterday. Along with any other information you can get to me. But, I'm doing it here.

'You conference with whoever in Kamar-Taj. I promise not to go into the dark until I have all the information I need. Fair enough?'

Wong looked at him, almost distrustfully, as if he were somehow missing some important detail, but finally gave a nod of agreement.

Stephen gave a tight smile, invited,

'Care to stay for tea?'

* * *

Wong returned to the New York sanctum not long past sunset, to find Stephen doing exactly as he'd said; pouring over the stacks of books piled alongside his desk, music playing in the background. His MacBook was open, it's screen full of notes, information gleaned from whatever had been sent him from Kamar-Taj. Every light in his study, as well as his bedroom, and the hallway outside, all turned on.

Cloak hovered, right at his elbow, apparently unwilling to go any father away.

'Checking up on me?' Stephen asked, tone irritated, without looking up, and Wong simply stepped over to lay another book on the pile.

'Yes,' he admitted, without flinching, and Stephen slanted him an annoyed scowl.

Gesturing at all the lights, Stephen asked,

'Satisfied?' and went right back to reading the book.

Wong gave a frustrated sigh, and went to pull up a chair.

Stephen sat up, straight, said, incredulously,

'No. Seriously, I hope you're not planning on babysitting me?'

'Do I need to?' Wong shot back, and Stephen gave him a black glare.

'You doubt my word?'

Wong studied his face, carefully, his expression unflinching.

'Come on,' Stephen sighed, scowl fading, with a shake of his head, 'I'm certain there's more you can do to help back in Kamar-Taj.'

'That's true,'

Wong finally relented, giving the room a close perusal, realizing there wasn't one dark corner where Sable could possibly form a gateway unseen.

After another long, thoughtful scowl at Stephen, he said,

'This volume focuses on night realms,' tapping the cover of the book he'd just brought.

'Thank you,' Stephen replied, pulling it off the stack, opening it.

'Keep the lights on,' he warned, shaking a finger at Stephen.

Stephen rolled his eyes, but clearly dismissing Wong as he began to read.

After a few moments, Wong left, pausing briefly in the doorway for one backwards glance, then apparently, was gone.

Stephen just kept reading, pretending not to notice that Wong had snuck back, for one stealthy look, before actually leaving.

Stephen turned the music off, his keen ears waiting to hear the portal in the foyer open, close.

Slamming the book shut, he came quickly to his feet, and Cloak rippled close to his side.

'We're only going to get one shot at this,' Stephen warned, grimly, 'Are you ready?'

Cloak gave a shake of agreement.

Stephen gave a sharp nod, a sigh,

'Let's do it.'

* * *

The study was as blue-black as a moonless midnight. The only illumination came from the harsh glare of streetlights outside the giant windows, a faint cold glow. It was enough to gild the tall backed chair, reveal a figure sitting in it. Unmoving as a statue, elbows on the chair arms, chin resting on folded knuckles.

Sharp eyes, glittering, searching the shadows, listening to every whisper of sound in the building. Time seemed to pause, waiting like this. Every sense on high alert, every nerve on edge.

The clock crept thru the minutes, into the small hours before dawn.

Occasionally, his phone would ping, a check in text from Wong, rapidly and precisely answered. He couldn't afford distractions, or, an intervention.

Sable might not come, tonight. Or, tomorrow, or the next. Many nights might pass before the assassin came. Waiting for him to lessen his vigilance, let down his guard.

Stephen didn't think Sable would be able to wait. He' been beaten, a blow to his pride.

It wasn't often an assassin could be defeated and live to tell about it. It would certainly tarnish his reputation, whatever that might be, if word got around.

Also, the faster he returned, the less time his victim would have to prepare.

In his gut, he was certain it would be tonight.

He was right.

It only took a split second for the steel blue portal to spin open, immediately in front of him.

Sable came blazing out of it like a bolt of iced lightning, ebon cloak swirling like a black snowstorm from his shoulders.

He came straight at Stephen, unleashing a hailstorm of the silver shards directly at him.

Stephen leapt to his feet, a large mandala shield in each hand, deflecting the shards, and, this time, his shields didn't falter.

Sable gave a fierce snarl, formed a glittering silver sword in one hand, a shield of his own in the other. Stephen dropped one shield, replacing it with an eldritch whip of gold, faced Sable without fear. Blade and whip met shields, and the silver and gold illumination of their fight spun across the ceiling and walls like some eldritch form of the northern lights, a kaleidoscope of battle.

Sable charged, slammed his icy shield against Stephen's shield of gold, creating an unexpected eruption of sparks into both their faces. Stephen flinched away, left an opening for Sable to land a blow against his forearm, the back swipe nicking his right cheek.

The blade burned like frostbite, left a black, bleeding slash, forcing Stephen back a few steps, but he recovered, quickly, replied with slap of his whip across Sables face, drawing blood of his own. Sable tightened his defense, renewed his attack, but, so did Stephen.

Whip snarled blade, shields deflected blows, but neither was able to gain the advantage.

Finally, Sable took a few steps back, hissing in frustration at his inability to penetrate Stephen's defenses in any meaningful way.

Narrowed a gaze at Stephen, then sent his cloak jetting to attack.

Before it could reach Stephen, Cloak materialized from the darkness, dove at Sables cloak, completely enveloping it in its' crimson folds.

With an angry howl, Sable switched from sword to shards, and threw them at Cloak.

They struck an unseen shield, shattered into dust, never leaving a mark on the scarlet guardian. Cloak gripped the ebon enemy cloak tight, dragged it away from its' Chosens' battle.

Sable froze, glaring at the unexpected resourcefulness of his enemy.

'I may have underestimated you,' Sable snapped, pausing to catch his breath.

Panting himself, Stephen shot back,

'That's happened before.'

Sables face twisted into a sneer, bared silver fangs in anger, then, reformed his sword, turned his attention toward Cloak.

Which was his first, and last, mistake.

The moment his attention shifted, Stephen dropped his shield and threw a double handed bolt of his eldritch whip around Sable, shattering both his shield and sword. Stephen gave a vicious yank, tumbling Sable to the floor, thrashing futilely against the brilliant rose gold bands that clenched tightly around his chest, pinning arms to his sides.

The more he struggled, the tighter Stephen pulled the bands, until he finally lay still, smoke wisping from beneath his bonds. Stephen straightened, and, with a snap of his wrists, detached the whip from his hands, swirled it into a never ending loop encircling Sable. He stood over his enemy, offered a not at all friendly smile, then found a seat in his tall backed chair. He gave a quick glance at his injured forearm, wiped blood from his cheek.

Cloak floated close to his left elbow, looking rather odd as the ebon cloak it held bounced around within, attempting to escape.

Stephen leaned over to an object sitting on the opposite side of his chair, and, with a flourish, swirled a cover off the item sitting on the floor.

A golden light flickered within the goblet-shaped object, almost like a fire.

Sable blinked against the sudden brightness, and Stephen gestured toward the item.

'Brazier of Bom'Galiath,' he informed, matter-of-factly.

'Enhances any spell, duration and intensity. It means I can hold you, indefinitely, without wasting any of my energy.'

Stephens' eyes narrowed, angrily,

'It also enables the shield I gave Cloak to hold your cloak, without any damage. From it, or you.'

Sable thrashed, briefly, but realized the more he moved, the tighter the flashing gold bands became. He settled for glaring, his breath shortened by the tightness of his bonds.

'So,' Stephen began, leaning back into the chair, nonchalantly, 'I thought about killing you, but, that would make me no better than you. Plus, I have a very strong personal belief system that prevents me from doing that.

'At least, for now.'

Sable shifted, uncomfortably.

'The other option I was considering was to just set you out in the sun,' and at that, Sables eyes widened, involuntarily. From beneath Cloaks grip, the ebon cloak gave a mighty surge, also obviously upset at the idea.

Stephen gave a satisfied half grin, continued, mock concern,

'But, I'm a little worried you might melt, or explode, or turn into dust, and that won't get me the answers I need.''

Sable barked a short laugh, which trailed off into a snarl,

'What questions?'

'What are you, exactly?' Stephen fired back, and Sable gave an evil grin, hissed,

'The first of many.'

That answer sent a chill up Stephen's spine, but he was careful not to show it.

'Who sent you?'

Sable closed his brilliant eyes, shook his head, chuckled, but otherwise kept silent, which was no surprise.

Stephen stared at him, long minutes, waited for Sable to meet his cold, judgmental stare.

'I thought as much. Which is why I've decided to put you in the Gyve.'

Within Cloaks' unrelenting grasp, the ebon cloak went ballistic, thrashing madly in an attempt to escape.

Sable spoke, the words an unknown dialect, and his cloak went still.

Sables expression was much less arrogant as Stephen stood, pulling the black orb from his pocket.

Commented, dryly,

'I'll try to remember to check on you in a couple weeks, see if you have anything to say, then.'

Stephen gave the orb a small toss, catching it easily, observing, a curious twist to his brow,

'You might be alright in there, since you like the cold, and dark.'

Sable simply lay, quietly, as Stephen bent over, took his sling ring, pocketed it, commenting, with a wink,

'Wouldn't do for you to keep that.'

'My cloak?' Sable asked, suddenly, unexpectedly.

Stephen straightened, with a contemplative frown,

'Cloak will deal with your cloak however it sees fit. Recompense, for your treatment of it.'

Cloak gave a satisfied sway, but there was no reaction from its captive.

Sable simply closed his eyes, with a small nod, and spoke another short sentence. The tone was apologetic, sad, and then, the ebon cloak gave a gentle shuffle against its captors' hold.

Stephen couldn't help but recognize that bond, and felt a sudden wave of regret over his decision, but it didn't last long.

Mercy wasn't an option, not with this being. Not after what he'd done.

He firmed his jaw, lifted the Gyve.

Sable opened his eyes, a hateful glare up at Stephen, accompanied by a terrifying silver snarl.

Stephen didn't flinch.

He pointed the Gyve at Sable, opened it. The Gyve shuddered, pulled Sable into a swirling whirlwind of black, snapping the eldritch coils that bound him.

Accompanied by a blood curdling scream, Sable vanished into the orb.

It was over in a second, and the Gyve snapped shut.

Stephen looked at the black orb in his grip, admitted, with an unexpected shiver,

'That was a bit disconcerting,' and stepped over to the desk, clicking on the light, and laying the Gyve down.

He looked at it, then Cloak, asked, solemnly,

'What are you going to do with that?' indicating its' captive.

Cloak hung there, a few seconds, facing its' Chosen, then deliberately turned, to hang close in front of the giant windows.

Outside, the horizon was lightening, and dawn wasn't far off.

Stephen frowned, not certain that exposing the dark cloak to sunlight would actually harm it, but, it was Cloaks' decision. He would be ready to assist in its' recapture, if needed.

He hurried around, turning on lights, just in case Wong decided to show up, unannounced. He'd set a motion sensor at the end of the hallway, which would ping to his phone, but that would only give a few seconds notice.

He needed to return the Brazier to the Relic Room, clean up his injuries, or risk unwanted questions.

The first rays of sunlight burst into the room, a brilliant flood of crimson, violet, and gold.

Stephen stopped what he was doing, went to stand quietly beside his scarlet companion.

He looked at Cloak, and it turned toward him, collar set stiffly in a determined attitude.

It waited, silent as always, seeming to ask for its' Chosens' permission.

Stephen smiled, grimly, nodded,

'Your choice.'

Cloak whipped its folds open, releasing the ebon cloak into the sunlight, and backed away.

The black cloak struggled to escape the shimmering rays, but its' efforts were in vain. Within seconds, it burst into a cloud of dust, sifting to the floor like ash.

Cloak hung, stoically, facing its' Chosen, as the last of the dust settled.

Then, without a backwards glance, it headed for the broom and dustpan that sat in the corner.

Stephen sighed, then gathered up the Brazier, headed back to the Relic Room, returning it to its' stand.

When he got back to his study, Cloak was just finishing sweeping up the silvery, slate colored ash, swinging over to tip it into the waste can with a satisfied tap of the dustpan against the edge of the can.

After a moment, it returned the broom and dustpan to the corner, and went back to bask in the sunlight. Its' attitude felt distant, and Stephen wasn't quite sure what to do to change that.

A sharp 'ping' caught Stephens attention, and he pulled his phone, said,

'Uh, oh. Wongs' on his way up.'

He hurried over, moved his tall backed chair back to the desk, settling in to it, and, as Wong entered his study, he gave a huge yawn, and a stretch, as if he'd been sitting there all night.

All at once, he remembered the slash on his cheek, and forearm, attempted to conceal them by rising, walking over to stand by Cloak, looking out at the sunrise.

Wong eyed him, observed, sharply,

'Long night.'

Stephen nodded, without turning around, agreed,

'Guess I could get some rest, now the suns' up,' but couldn't resist a glance back over his shoulder.

Wong leaned over the desk, scowling, as he noticed the Gyve sitting there. It was way too dangerous to be left out of the locked case. In his concern over Cloak, Stephen realized he'd forgotten it, and gave a silent curse.

'Why is this removed from the Relic Room?' Wong asked, lifting it, pulling Stephen a nervous step that direction, hands raised in a cautionary gesture,

'Ah, be careful with that.'

Wong shot him an angry glare,

'Why?'

Stephen grimaced, guiltily, admitted,

'Sable is in there.'

Stephen was afraid Wong might explode he looked so furious, but he never uttered a word.

Instead, gripping the Gyve tightly, but cautiously, Wong headed off toward the relic room, Stephen right alongside. Cloak hurried away from its spot at the windows, settling onto its Chosens' shoulders.

Wong made the trip in utter silence, which was more disconcerting than any rant he might have thrown Stephen's way.

Once in the Room, Wong unlocked the case, made of bullet proof glass, lit with brilliant LED lights, and laid the Gyve into its cradle.

After locking it, he stood, long seconds, scowling at the relic, with Stephen shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot behind him.

All at once, Wong turned, raged,

'You gave your word, you would not face him alone! Not confront him, without the proper knowledge!'

'Clearly, I had the information I needed,' Stephen defended, then indicated Cloak, wrapped close on his shoulders, added, quietly,

'And, I wasn't alone.'

Wong was unimpressed with Stephens defense.

'Have a care, Stephen,' Wong warned, angrily, 'one day, this arrogant, loner attitude will carry you into a situation that is above your skills, and you will fail.'

Stephen scowled, recognizing that was a possibility, but not prepared to admit it. Wong straightened, folded hands behind his back, his expression returned to its usual calm.

Wong face.

As if nothing at all had happened, Wong said,

'It is good that you've captured Sable. I assume you intended to question him, later, after he's had some time in the Gyve?'

Surprised at Wongs' insight, Stephen nodded, twitched an eyebrow,

'Maybe I should ask for help when I decide to do that.'

Wong nodded, agreed, gravely,

'Maybe you should.'

A smile found Stephen's face, and he gave a stretch, observed,

'Actually, it was a long night, and, I could use some breakfast, and some tea. If you'd care to join me?'

Wong studied his face a few moments, gave a small nod,

'Perhaps you will share some details about your encounter?'

Stephen laughed, nodded,

'Of course!'

Wong headed out of the room, adding,

'Then, you can spend some time adding that information to the Library Archives for future reference.'

'My writing is illegible,' Stephen protested, following, and Wong reminded,

'You can enter all the data from your MacBook. We have a new digital format, available. We aren't savages, remember?'


	13. Night Games Epilogue

Epilogue

Stephen came into his bedroom, finishing drying his hair, a towel around his waist. Tossed a glance around for Cloak. He was somewhat surprised not to see it floating close to its' favorite item, the speaker, listening to music. It had barely left it, in the last three days since its release from the Gyve.

Brow furrowed, he called,

'Cloak?' but received no appearance from his crimson companion.

He gave a sad sigh, draped the hair towel around his neck, headed to the Relic Room.

He found Cloak there, hovering in front of the case containing the Gyve.

This had become its' other most frequented spot.

It seemed an obsessive behavior, which was upsetting.

Cloak had also been very distant, oddly restrained, since its' return, and Stephen had no idea how to find out why.

Or, what he could do to help relieve its' obvious distress.

With a scowl, he remembered what Wong had said; within the Gyve, hours were like years. That being true, he had no idea how many years it had seemed to Cloak…decades? Longer?

It could certainly help explain its' current demeanor.

'Hey,' he said, softly, and Cloak turned toward him.

'I'm going to go out, shop for some wine, and cheese. Would you like to come?' he offered.

Cloaks response was much subdued. Rather than the energetic loop he'd come to expect, it merely pointed to itself with its hem edge, questioningly.

'Yes, you,' Stephen replied, gently, 'WE are supposed to go visit Doctor Palmer tomorrow night, and I promised wine, and cheese.'

Cloak's reaction to that was a bit more animated, as it followed its Chosen back to supervise his wardrobe selection.

Once he was attired to his Cloaks' satisfaction, Stephen asked, firmly, but kindly,

'May I see the stitches I put in? I want to make sure they're holding.'

Cloak came close, offered its' folds, and Stephen's expression was both elated, and confused.

Everywhere he'd repaired Cloaks' damage, there was a beautiful new design, almost like a scar, following the edge of each tear. He pulled its' hem close, saw the tatters were nearly gone, and its' glorious soft scarlet finish was nearly restored. He hadn't realized that Cloak would actually heal.

It was quite a concept.

He offered a huge grin, and Cloak gave his hand a gentle squeeze, clearly of thanks.

Stephen gave a long look out the window, realizing the sun had already set, and darkness was falling in his bedroom.

He couldn't suppress a tiny, gratified smile, that he didn't have to worry about that, anymore.

'Shall we?' he suggested, heading out toward the main foyer, and Cloak swirled to his shoulders, giving its' Chosen an extra little snuggle as it settled in.

Stephen laughed,

'I'm glad you're back, too,' and headed out onto the street.

* * *

Darkness had completely claimed the study, except for the usual low glow emanating from the streetlights, outside.

Into the silence, came a sharp rattle, as if something were caught in a metal can.

The waste can alongside Stephen's desk wobbled.

A ragged, tattered, smokey fold appeared, over the edge, gripping the can to pull itself up. The ebon cloak, its' form still repairing, crawled up, surveying the empty room.

Listening, waiting.

Its' collar twitched, as it waited for the rest of itself to reassemble. It tumbled over the edge, onto the floor. Lay there, long minutes, waiting for all its' ash to rejoin into one.

Gathering some energy, it began to crawl. Growing stronger as it moved, relentlessly, thru the shadows, toward the Relic Room.

Towards its' Master.


	14. Seven nurture

Seven

Nurture

Cloak floated, restlessly, thru the Sanctum, drawn relentlessly toward the Relic Room, as if the Gyve still had some invisible hold on it.

The Room held the warm glow of late afternoon, gold rays sparkling in from the giant round window that overlooked the assortment of Relics.

Cloak headed straight for the case holding the Gyve, did a careful inspection of the lock, the lights, the glass.

As it did, every time it came in.

Even tho it came in, several times a day.

Perhaps the word to be used was paranoid.

It realized its' Chosen was concerned for it, but it didn't have any way to help him understand exactly how its' experience had affected it.

It hated that it couldn't stay away.

Not even music seemed able banish the memories.

When it heard the tiny, scrabbling scuffle, it jerked around, very nearly in a panic.

Surveyed the room, collar swiveling like radar.

The sound came, again, from up close alongside the round window.

Cautiously, it floated closer, every fiber bristling, alert.

Sunlight bathed the floor, except for a small, shadowed patch off to the right.

Again, the scuffle, and it froze, pinpointed the location, then dove toward it, ready to attack, make a defense of the Room, if necessary.

Stopped, confused.

A small, furry shape rustled on the floor, a faint, high pitched squeak.

Cloak snapped away, then slowly moved closer, swirling down so its' collar was close enough to identify the tiny intruder.

A bat.

Too small to be out alone.

It gave another weak squeak, flopped, and it was obvious to Cloak the baby was in distress.

Carefully, Cloak nudged an edge of its hem close, urging the creature to climb on.

It did, and the feel of its' tiny claws gripping tightly gave Cloak a shiver.

It trusted Cloak.

Cradling it, Cloak raced off, searching for its' Chosen.

Stephen was just gathering up some towels, getting ready to head to the shower as Cloak burst into the room.

'There you are! Just getting ready to go to Doctor Palmers…'

He stopped, confused, realizing Cloak had something cupped carefully in its hem.

Brow crumpled, he asked,

'What is it?'

Cloak started toward its' Chosen, then stopped.

Realizing it didn't know if Stephen might not exactly care for bats.

The baby squiggled, gave another weak peep, and Stephen heard it.

Tossing the towels on the bed, he went over, gestured that Cloak show him what it had, said,

'Let me see.'

After a brief hesitation, Cloak uncovered the small life, clutched so carefully in its' folds.

'A little brown Myotis,' Stephen observed , examining the tiny creature.

Clearly not afraid of bats.

He gently stroked the little bat, and it wriggled, feebly, its squeak faded, but its' minuscule claws gripped tightly to Cloak.

Stephen shook his head, expression grim.

'Where did you find this? The Relic Room?'

Cloak bobbed, affirmative, and Stephen commented,

'Not surprising. I've noticed a colony in the attic. Was it alone?'

Another bob.

'I think it lost its' Mother. It should still be nursing.'

With a scowl, he warned ,

'I'm afraid it will die. It's too young to fly, feed on its own.'

Cloak recoiled in horror, cupping the baby carefully, shaking its' collar NO.

Then, plaintively, extended the little bat toward its' Chosen, a plea for help.

There as no way Stephen could deny his comrade. He stood, hands on hips, thinking.

Finally, decided,

'We might be able to feed it goats' milk and honey until its' a little older. Probably would only need to be a couple days.'

Cloak responded with an energetic nod, pulling a smile to Stephen's face.

'Alright, I'll have to go out for it.'

Checked his phone, made a face at the time.

Obviously, he was concerned about his date with Christine.

After another look at his crimson companion, looking so anxious, he sighed, dialed Christine.

'Hey, I've got kind of a family emergency here….no, no, I'm fine….it's kind of hard to explain…could I just come get you, bring you here? I might need a little help…..Great! I'll come by around eight? Perfect. See you then.'

Cloak floated over by the speaker, tapped it on, then hovered there, gently cradling its' small charge, swaying to the music.

Bemused by his companions' actions, Stephen just shook his head, and headed off to buy supplies to feed a baby bat.

Cloak waited, patiently, holding its' small charge, as its' Chosen carefully warmed the goats' milk and honey mixture, checking the temperature against his wrist.

Sitting on a barstool in the kitchen, Christine took a sip of her wine, an odd twist on her face.

Stephen glanced her way, gave a mischievous grin,

'What?'

She just shook her head, admitted, with a smile,

'I have to say this is a first for me….wine, cheese, and bats.

'Oh, and, an animated cape.'

'Cloak,' Stephen corrected, sharply, instantly regretting his tone, but Christine didn't seem to mind.

'A cape actually falls above the knee,' he explained, awkwardly, and Christine just shook her head, chuckled,

'Now I know.'

Stephen brought the mixture to the counter, and Cloak floated over, unwrapping the baby.

Stephen filled a dropper, attempted to get it to the tiny mouth, but quickly grew frustrated. The shake of his hands simply wouldn't allow him to hold the dropper steady enough for the baby to lick the formula.

After watching a minute, Christine couldn't take it any more.

Setting down her glass, she came to her feet, asked,

'May I?' as she came over.

Cloak surprised them both by backing away from her, pulling an irritated scowl from Stephen.

'Christine can help,' he chided, but Christine shook her head, sighed,

'No, really, I understand.'

With a weirded out grimace, she looked at Cloak, apologized,

'I…I'm sorry…about the hallway. I mean, what happened.'

Stephens mouth dropped open, slightly, and both he and Cloak stared.

Christine shook her head, eyes closed, admitted,

'I have absolutely no idea what to think, about all this.

But, I'm doing my best to figure it out.'

After a moment of awkward silence, Stephen cleared his throat, said,

'Well, I'm afraid I must apologize, myself. I have been very rude.

'An introduction is long overdue.

'Christine, this is Cloak.

'Cloak, Doctor Christine Palmer.'

Cloak faced Christine, unmoving, and Christine offered a confused smile.

It gave a small tilt of its collar, then, almost hesitantly, came closer.

Stephen handed over the feeding supplies.

Cloak extended its' folds, and Christine leaned over the little creature.

Under her steady, patient hand, the baby eagerly licked the proffered meal.

'See?' she murmured, quietly, as Cloak leaned close, observing.

When she refilled the dropper, Cloak pointedly indicated its' desire to try.

Christine glanced at Stephen, who shrugged, so she handed the dropper over to Cloak.

Carefully, Cloak mimicked Christine's every gesture, proving its' crimson folds were remarkably dexterous.

After another dropper full, the baby was obviously satisfied. Curled contentedly against its' guardian, it fell asleep.

Cloak wrapped it, gently, then offered Christine a nod of its' collar.

Christine couldn't help but smile.

Stephen couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Twilight had fallen, and night was close on its heels.

Stephen stood on the roof of the Sanctum, Cloak alongside, holding its' small charge. Christine, uncertain as to where she actually fit in, here, waited several steps behind them.

They could hear the high pitched squeaks as the colony of bats which lived in the attic began to stir, head out into the darkness, a swirl of organized chaos.

Clinging tightly to Cloaks' gentle grasp, the baby heard the sound, excitedly peeped, flapped its' wings.

Stephen gave his comrade a gentle smile, and a nod, and Cloak lifted its' folds, allowing the small creature the freedom to join its' kind.

Within seconds, it had found its' wings, and fluttered off, into the night, folding in to the dark swirl.

Stephen watched, silently, admiring the ballet of their flight as it scattered across the sky.

After a moment, Cloak settled onto his shoulders, a melancholy ruffle.

Stephen consoled, softly,

'You did a wonderful job. I've been worried about you, my friend.'

Cloak pulled its' collar close, brushed its' Chosens' cheeks, a reassuring thanks.

Christine edged up alongside the inseparable duo, offering a smile.

With a sad smile of his own, Stephen explained,

'It seems it's been a long time, since I've been able to nurture, instead of fight.'

After a long pause, he added, grimly,

'I'm afraid our battles may just be beginning.'

He fell silent, his expression faded into contemplation.

Christine slipped her hand into his, pulling a surprised glance, a renewed smile.

He gripped her hand, tightly, and she shifted closer.

'What is this, Stephen?' she asked, looking between him, and Cloak. He wasn't exactly sure what she meant.

But Cloak understood.

Hesitantly, it lifted its' edge, away from Stephens' shoulder, around Christine, and pulled her close to its' Chosen.

Wrapping them both in its' protective scarlet folds.

At that, Stephen chuckled, replied,

'This is my family.'

Christine smiled, laid her head on Stephens shoulder, commented, wryly,

'A dysfunctional one.'

'No,' Stephen corrected, freeing his hand, to wrap an arm around her shoulders,

'It's perfect.'


	15. Eight: Out Of The Shadows

Eight

Out Of The Shadows

Chapter One

Doctor Hank Pym made his way toward his office, scowling at the paperwork in his hands.

Scotts' disappearance with his suit had caused a multitude of problems, on several fronts. He was beyond annoyed with Tony Stark and his group of so-called Avengers, as well as their interference with both Scott, and his work,

He entered his office, closing the door behind, and, a quick glance toward his desk made him stop in his tracks.

A dark haired man, with keen blue eyes, was sitting there, wearing a red cloak.

As Hank stared, the man came to his feet, announced,

'Doctor Pym, I'm Doctor Stephen Strange.'

Hank slammed the papers he was carrying down on the desk, replied, angrily,

'I know who you are. How did you get in here? This is the twelfth floor!'

Stephen offered an apologetic smile, stepped out from behind the desk.

Said, matter-of-factly,

'I let myself in. Your secretary was being difficult.'

'That happens to be my daughter, Hope,' Hank corrected, using his earpiece to silently call an army of ants to the attack.

Immediately, a swarm of black seethed out of every conceivable corner, headed toward Stephen.

Stephen scowled, and, with a brief flick of his fingers, dropped a Ring Of Protection spell to the floor, cordoning off the area where he stood. The red circle fried ants as they attempted to cross it.

To Hanks' surprised reaction he explained, with an annoyed quirk of his brow,

'Sorry. I don't care for insects.'

Cloak curled its' hem edges up and away from the floor, giving every indication that it shared its' Chosens' feeling about insects.

Realizing he had no choice but to hear what Stephen had to say, Hank recalled his armies, asked, irritably,

'What do the Avengers want from me, now?'

Stephen snapped his fingers, dissipating the spell.

Then, shook his head, corrected,

'I'm not here on their behalf. I have a personal request, something I'd appreciate your assistance with.'

He laid his hand to the stack of paperwork he'd brought with him, informed,

'I need help understanding quantum realms, and alternate dimensions.'

Hank eyed the pile of papers, sniping,

'I deal with science, not sorcery.'

Stephen offered an icy grin, remarked,

'Tell me, Doctor, is shrinking a man to the size of an ant, science, or sorcery?'

Hank glared, without comment, conceding Stephen the point.

Stephen, his expression much more contrite, explained,

'I am attempting to assist a very brave woman, who I fear is trapped in an alternate dimension, fighting a battle she can neither win, nor abandon.'

'What do you want from me? Neither my suit, nor my research, has any relevance to that.'

'I know,' Stephen admitted, 'But, I've read your research. You understand more about alternate realms than any man alive. It's not my area of expertise. I feel like I have pieces of the puzzle, but I can't see the picture.'

He came to stand before Hank Pym, gestured back toward the paper pile,

'I have some additional information, which you may not have had access to, previously.'

Hank Pym met Stephens eyes, unflinchingly, jaw stubbornly set.

Stephen sighed, recognizing Hanks' reluctance, and realizing the reasons behind it.

Offering one final plea, Stephen said,

'I'm simply attempting to find her,' then waited, quietly, for his response.

After a moment, Hank moved past him, picked up a few pieces of the research Stephen had brought with him.

Adjusted his glasses, skimming the pages.

Stephen gave a small grin; he'd deliberately laid some exceptionally unique documents, right on top.

Hoping that Pym would be unable to resist getting ahold of the information.

He wasn't wrong.

Hank turned toward Stephen, unable to keep the amazement from his features.

'Where did you get this?' he demanded.

'The Masters' Library at Kamar-Taj. I had to get special permission to allow you access.'

Cloak gave a ripple along his shoulders, almost like a chuckle of amusement, and Stephen was fairly certain it was because it was remembering the huge argument he'd had with Wong over allowing an outsider to read any of their books.

Then, Stephen threw out his last piece of bait,

'I understand you are looking for someone lost in an alternate realm.'

Hank shot him an evil glare, and Stephen continued,

'I hope that, in addition to assisting me, something in the information I've provided may help you find your wife.'

Hank tossed the papers back into the pile, obviously miffed, and dying of curiosity at the same time,

'Alright. I'll look it over. I can't promise anything.'

Stephen offered a genuinely grateful smile, and a nod,

'That's all I ask. Thank you.'

He headed toward the door, said,

'I'll show myself out.'

Hank followed him into the outer office, and as he walked past her desk, Hope came to her feet, a fiercely confused scowl on her face.

Stephen merely offered a smile, and a nod, and continued on his way out of the building.

'How did he get in here?' she asked, and Hank just shook his head, hands in pockets, admitted,

'Honestly, I've just given up attempting to understand these people.'


	16. Out Of The Shadows Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Stephen was feeling positively chipper as he climbed the stairs to the Relic Room.

The meeting with Hank Pym had gone well, and his hopes were high.

Cloak had elected to stay in the study, listening to music, which was fine. Actually, Stephen was relieved it had found a way to cope with its' terrible experience. If staying out of the Relic Room helped that healing process, more power to it.

As he moved toward the giant window, his steps faltered to a halt.

There were lights out, along the far wall, close to where the Gyve was kept, and a sizable area was thrown into shadows. He slanted a scowl that direction, altered his course to have a look.

A cursory inspection revealed what appeared to be some shorted out wiring, resulting in blown out light bulbs.

He made a face, realizing this was a very old building. He needed to remember to check with Wong to see if he needed to call an electrician, or some other arrangement for building maintenance was in place.

As he turned, a sudden shiver ran along his neck, and he spun back, quickly, brow furrowed.

But, nothing was amiss. Everything was exactly as it always was.

He leaned back in, giving the door of the thick, bullet proof glass case holding the Gyve a sharp jerk; it was locked. All the LED lights inside were still brightly lit.

Unconsciously, Stephen smoothed the hidden breast pocket of his tunic, where he kept the key.

It was there, as expected.

Disconcerted, Stephen shook his head, wondering if it was his turn to be paranoid.

He really did need to set up some time to loose Sable, question him, but that entire scenario was admittedly daunting, as a well as dangerous. He realized that was bothering him more than he cared to admit. Perhaps once he got a few answers from Hank Pym, he'd have the focus to get to that.

With a final scowl toward the Gyve, Stephen spun, headed toward the books he'd left lying on the table by the window.

As his footsteps receded, a shadow swirled to life, slid out from beneath the cabinet setting nearest the Gyve.

Clinging to the dark, Ebon cloak watched, waited, until Stephen was gone.

Then, careful to avoid the light, it crawled upwards, closer to the next set of bulbs, waiting for the shadows to lengthen enough for it to get its' folds into the wiring.

Slowly, deliberately, continuing its sabotage.

Preparing the room for its' Masters' escape.

And, now it knew where to find the key.

* * *

Stephen was humming, cheerily, despite the thunderstorm crashing outside the Sanctums' windows.

Gateways did prove very useful, he chucked to himself; despite the grim weather he could travel without even getting damp.

He'd just spent an enjoyable evening at the Met with Christine, and he'd even received a gentle kiss on the cheek when returning her to her loft.

Very promising.

Very promising, indeed.

Cloak, as usual, gave a small shake as it lifted from his shoulders, ruffled across the study to tap the speaker on.

Stephen smiled, tossed his gloves on the desk, when a ping alerted him to a text.

Cloak swiveled, curiously, as Stephen laughed, out loud.

'It's Hank Pym! He's found something, wants me to meet him, tomorrow afternoon.' Cloak gave an ecstatic ripple, clearly as excited as Stephen.

A sharp crack of lightning shook the building, a shuddering roll of thunder, and the lights went out, plunging the study into darkness.

Stephen groaned, annoyed. One of the shortcomings of having the tallest building in the area was it's penchant for attracting lightning strikes.

In the blue flicker of lightning, blinking thru the large windows, Stephen saw Cloak give a confused shrug, collar tilted toward the lights.

To his companions' wordless query, Stephen grumbled, irritably,

'You're right. One more thing I need to have looked at. The backup generator should have come on, by now.

'I'm going to have a look. It might just need a switch flipped.'

Cloak gave a bob, obviously content to stay dry in the study.

With another sigh, Stephen rummaged around in his desk drawer for a flashlight, then headed off toward the Relic Room, which had access to the roof, and the backup generator.

The Relic Room was nearly black, with lightning outside the giant window providing the only glimpses of clarity.

Shaking and fussing with the flashlight, which obviously needed new batteries, Stephen crossed the room, headed toward the roof access door.

When something snaked around his ankles from behind and jerked him off his feet, he was completely unprepared. He fell, hard, unable to break his fall.

His head smacked against one of the cabinets, scattering a field of sparkling white dots across his vision, and he blacked out.

Ebon cloak flashed out from beneath the cabinet, knowing it had only seconds before Cloak realized its' Chosen needed it. It dove on Stephen, ruffling violently thru his tunic, looking for the key.

It grasped the key a split second before it was hit by Cloak, a crimson freight train, which tore it away from Stephen, threw it across the room.

Fairly vibrating with a mix of fury and terror, Cloak crouched protectively over its' unconscious Chosen, watching as Ebon pulled itself from the floor.

Urgently, but gently, Cloak shook Stephen. This was a horribly dangerous situation to be caught in, made much worse by the fact that its' Chosen was unconscious. He was defenseless.

While Cloak attempted to rouse Stephen, Ebon cloak flew to the cabinet, fumbling with the lock.

Cloak realized what Ebon was up to, but hesitated, a second too long, before reacting.

As Cloak dove toward Ebon, it pulled the case open, wrapped the Gyve into its' folds, and opened it.

Cloak dodged away, covering Stephen protect him from the violent frozen whirlwind that blasted out, dumping Sable to the floor.

Ebon dropped the Gyve, and it rolled toward Cloak, who grabbed it, wrapping a protective swath of its' other hem edge around Stephens shoulders.

The freezing wind helped to bring Stephen around, and Cloak lifted him to a sitting position.

Stephen groaned, grabbed his skull, fingers coming away bloody. Groggily, he realized that Cloaks' folds were quaking, and shook his head to clear his vision.

What he saw in the eerie flicker of lightning pulled him fully awake, and a jolt of fear ran thru him when he realized what had happened.

Sable was loose.

He had no idea how, but that was beside the point.

Ebon hovered over its' Master, guarding him, but Stephen barely recognized him as the same Sable that had gone into the Gyve.

His long black hair had gone nearly white, his skin a sickly shade of grey. His clothes were tattered rags, his body wasted. He still laid where the Gyve had dropped him, but feebly lifted his head to look at Stephen.

His glittering eyes flashed, angrily, and he bared silver fangs, even tho it seemed he wouldn't be much of a threat in his current state.

Ebon wrapped around its' Master, lifting him, since he was unable to stand.

All the while carefully keeping its' collar turned toward Stephen and Cloak.

Stephen clambered to his feet, swayed dizzily, Cloak at his back, one edge protectively gripping around his chest.

The lights flickered, came on briefly, blinked back out.

Both Sable and Ebon flinched, but didn't flee.

Sable whispered something to Ebon, then locked his hateful glare on Stephen.

'I have given an oath…' he rasped, weakly, his voice cracked, raw, 'to kill you.'

'Break it,' Stephen shot back, snapping up a mandala shield. It flickered as the room seemed to spin beneath his feet, and he stumbled backwards, holding his head.

Cloak caught him, wrapping around his chest from behind, kept him upright.

Immediately, Stephen recognized the symptoms of a concussion.

Concussed, and attempting a defense against a lethal adversary.

Just…..perfect.

Sable hissed, appeared about to attempt an attack, when all the lights suddenly came back on.

Ebon coiled tightly around Sable, faster than the eye could follow, and darted toward the haven of shadows it had spent weeks creating along the wall. Following the faintest shadow trail out of the room, it, and Sable, escaped.

Stephen and Cloak stared, horrified.

'Oh, this is SO not good,' Stephen mumbled, and passed out


	17. Out Of The Shadows Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A gentle, insistent shaking roused Stephen. He moaned, opened a squinty eyed look at whomever was disturbing his slumber.

Cloak, its crimson touch soft and calming.

He grumbled some incomprehensible complaint, and then Wongs' flat voice said,

'You told Cloak to wake you, every hour.'

That brought his eyes more fully open, but he didn't dare move; the slightest shift of balance made the pounding in his head intensify.

Wong stood next to Cloak, who hovered immediately alongside his bed, swaying worriedly.

'It has done exactly as you requested,' Wong further informed.

'Sable escaped,' Stephen groaned, carefully tracing the bandages on his bashed head.

'Yes,' Wong verified, 'you told me.'

Stephen managed an odd, confused look, and Wong clarified,

'You called me.'

Stephen had no recollection of that, but gave a slight nod, wincing, decided to sit up.

The room spun, briefly, then leveled out.

Wong gave Stephen a rather stern version of Wong face, commented,

'I felt it unwise to leave you solely under the care of your Cloak, no matter how competent.'

Stephen tossed a glance toward Cloak, who didn't seem upset with Wongs' reasoning.

His next look was out the giant windows, which showed the light of late afternoon, and a sudden moment of panic hit him.

'Hank Pym. I was supposed to meet him, this afternoon… '

Wong shook his head, assured,

'I have informed him of your circumstances. He will be happy to reschedule as soon as you feel up to it.'

Stephen swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then decided that was far enough to move, for the moment.

'Did he manage to get a sling ring, do you know?' Wong asked, and Stephen shook his head, slightly.

'I don't believe so. That black cloak carried him away. I think that, if it had gotten hold of a sling ring, Sable would have used it, instead of risking his chance of escape on some shadows.'

A grimace twisted his face, and he added,

'Even in his condition.'

Wong scowled, fiercely, asked,

'What do you mean?'

'It was….well, it was horrifying. I mean, how he looked,' Stephen replied, with a slight shiver.

'Like some ancient, fairy tale monster. White hair, grey skin, emaciated…'

'That is what the Gyve does,' Wong broke in, 'it is a cruel device.'

Stephen stared at Wong, a few moments, then decided,

'It should be destroyed.'

Wong just looked at him, changed the subject,

'We have set up security for any and all known sling rings, just in case Sable would attempt to obtain one to use in an effort to escape this dimension.'

'If we can trap him, here, maybe we can recapture him, find out who sent him,' Stephen nodded, agreement, happy that his head wasn't pounding quite as much.

'You should sleep with the lights on, just to be safe,' Wong suggested, and Stephen made a face. He hated light while he slept.

Back to the mirror dimension for that, he decided.

Using his Teacher to Student tone to underscore the seriousness of his expression, Wong lectured,

'We know very little about Sable. How fast he might heal, where he might go, if he has any allies here. We must be on high alert, until he is recaptured, or killed. Protocols are in place, in both the London and the Hong Kong sanctum, as a well as Kamar-Taj.'

'Good,' Stephen agreed.

With a thoughtful twist of his brows, Wong suggested,

'Perhaps, in view of his failures, he will choose to permanently abandon this dimension, if he can.'

Stephen shook his head, expression grave, as he said, quietly,

'Oh, I don't think that will happen.'

Wong gave Stephen a sharp stare, but Stephen just shrugged, didn't elaborate any further.

Sables' reiteration of his intent to fulfill his vow was something Stephen decided to keep to himself, for the time being.

In an attempt to avoid further questions, Stephen managed to stand, even tho the vertigo was less than pleasant.

Cloak cautiously settled onto his shoulders, giving a contented little ruffle, adding a tiny hug, and, as always, pulling a smile to Stephen's face.

'Doctor Palmer brought over some excellent lasagne. Perhaps we could discuss the events leading to Sables' escape over that,' Wong informed Stephen, as he spun, headed out toward the study, en route to the kitchen, 'If you're hungry, that is?'

'Wait…what…you called her?' Stephen insisted, following as fast as he could, relying on Cloak to keep him upright whenever the dizziness hit him.

'Of course,' Wong huffed, 'When I got here, you were unconscious on the floor. Plus, I'm not very good with stitches.'

'Fabulous,' Stephen groused, unhappily, 'I'm spending more time as her patient than as a possible Significant Other.'

'She did mention something about having you list her as your primary care physician,' Wong shot back, causing Stephen to quicken his pace in an effort to determine if Wong was kidding.

As if Wong would ever allow his face to reveal that.


	18. Nine: Particles Of Reality Chapter One

Nine:

Particles Of Reality

Chapter One

Sitting in Hank Pym's office, Stephen looked at the confusing labyrinth of figures, calculations, formulas and theories sprawled across three giant whiteboards, admittedly baffled.

While he was rather a brilliant Doctor, surgeon, and sorcerer, mathematics on this level was not his forte.

Hank Pym had explained it in as basic a fashion as possible, and, while Stephen felt he had a better grip on the concept than before, he was still well out of his depth with this type of physics.

Hank, his eyes bright with excitement, turned away from the whiteboard, toward Stephen, asked,

'Do you know what all of this means?'

Apparently Stephen wasn't great at hiding his confusion, so, arms thrown wide, Hank said, exhilarated,

'Using the Pym Particle, and these new theories, we could open a…a..gateway…into a quantum realm. Another dimension…an alternate…'

'Reality?' Stephen supplied, coming to his feet, stepping closer to the board, still struggling with the math.

Hank stepped close alongside, said,

'Tell me. This woman you're looking for.'

'Master Jade,' Stephen supplied, and Hank nodded,

'Master Jade. How does she travel, from wherever it is she is, to here? How do you travel here, from New York?'

Stephen shook his head, explained,

'I have a mental picture of where I want to go, then open a dimensional gateway. But, I can't go somewhere I've never seen.'

Stephen scowled,

'As I explained, before, I believe she is in an alternate reality, so I can't vouch for how she arrived here.'

Hank frowned,

'You realize how problematic such a concept is? Crossing realities? How could she do such a thing?'

Stephen scrunched his face, hunched his shoulders slightly, prepared for Hank to mock him, as he replied,

'She has a Staff. It's a Relic. The Staff of Bisected Realities. I believe that's how she can accomplish it.'

But, when he met Hanks eyes, he was surprised. Instead of scorn, he saw contemplation. After a few moments, Hank turned to a different white board, began drawing energetically.

'You call it a 'Relic', but, what if it's actually some type of a device to create a quantum bridge? I discovered the Pym particle, in our era, but there's no reason it couldn't have been discovered or used before. Maybe this 'Staff' uses that same particle?'

Hanks' marker flew across the whiteboard at a dizzying speed, working out calculations only he understood,

'Time would flow differently, faster, more slowly, in an alternate reality. So, it would take some doing to jump between them. But, if it could be done, if she can do it…'

He stepped back from his diagram, and said, quietly, looking at the new set of calculations,

'Perhaps we can, as well.'

Stephen turned, paced anxiously, Cloak, as always, tight to his shoulders.

Brow knotted, he admitted, disappointedly,

'How would we even know where to go? Where to look? My studies have revealed there to be a vast multiverse, full of all types of beings. Some, not so nice.'

On his shoulders, Cloak gave a shudder, obviously recalling their encounters with Sable, as well as Dormammu.

It was discouraging to think that, now there was a possibility of accomplishing what he had hoped, he actually had no idea how to find Master Jade.

Hank scowled, thinking. After a few moments, he suggested, cautiously optimistic,

'She could have left a trail.'

'What?' Stephen replied, pausing his pacing to meet Hanks' contemplative expression.

'Travel, whatever the type, even across dimensions, leaves behind markers. Disturbances in the fabric of time. A trail.'

Hank pulled off his glasses, chewing his lip, with a disappointed shake of his head,

'Ah, if you only had something that she might have left behind, on her visit, that would make it easier.'

Cloak just about leaped free of Stephen's shoulders, tapping his hand excitedly in a reminder, then, with its' hem edge, mimicked painting.

A wide grin split Stephen's face when he realized what Cloak was attempting to tell him.

Of course.

The paintbrush.

'It just so happens, Dr. Pym, that I have such a thing.'


	19. Particles Of Reality Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Stephen paced anxiously in the Hall Of Memories at Kamar-Taj, rolling the paintbrush around in his hands, uncharacteristically quiet. His brow furrowed, worry, and Cloak fluttered from his shoulders in exaggerated billows of its' own making, excitement.

Wong, wearing his usual scowl, stood with folded arms. He had bought some weaponry along, just in case Stephen's attempts to locate Master Jade inadvertently allowed dangerous beings to enter their dimension.

Hank Pym squinted at his tablet, working out the final calculations, and randomly flicking a mistrustful eye toward Wong.

Wong responded by not taking his eyes off Dr. Pym.

'Explain, again, how this will work?' Wong rumbled, and Hank looked up, adjusted his glasses,

'Theoretically, when Doctor Strange opens a gateway in the area where your Master Jade exited this reality, and I introduce a deviant of my particle solution, a corridor will open to her reality.'

'Theoretically,' Wong repeated, tone flat, and Hank nodded.

'Why do you require her paintbrush?'

'I'm hoping it's molecular structure will...'recognize', if you will, the trail back to where it's from, and open the corridor. If we got it right, it will have a whirlpool, a vortex, effect, and pull whatever is in it right thru to the other side. Point A to point B.'

'What if that doesn't work like that?' Wong insisted, 'What if this takes Strange somewhere else, entirely? Or, nowhere at all?'

His implication was that the entire venture could turn deadly.

Stephen stopped pacing, alarmed, looking between the two men, obviously waiting for the reply.

Clearly, that possibility hadn't occurred to him.

Hanks' expression went completely blank as he said, looking at Stephen,

'I recommend having a sudden exit strategy.'

After a few moments of thought, he pointed at Stephen, advised,

'If this works, don't close your gateway. We might not be able to reopen it from this end.'

He shifted his feet, admitted, with a grimace,

'Or, you, from your end.'

Wong rolled his eyes, barked,

'This is a bad idea, Strange.'

'Probably,' Stephen nodded, agreement, as he stepped away from them, to stand where he had last seen Master Jade, gripping her paintbrush.

Pulled on his sling ring, then looked back, tossed a sharp nod to Hank.

Hank laid aside his tablet, pulled a vial of red liquid from his jacket pocket. Eyebrows raised, he returned the nod, said, solemnly,

'Good luck.'

Wong readied a weapon from his stash, conjured a shield, and fell into a battle stance in the hall.

Stephen closed his eyes, took several deep, calming breaths. Recalled, as closely as possible, the exact sounds he'd heard, the mental picture he had of Master Jade, stepping in to the gateway.

Cleared his mind of all other images, but that one.

Cloak grabbed tightly to his shoulders, ostensibly so as not to loose its' Chosen on this untried, and possibly unsafe, venture.

With one last giant breath, Stephen opened his eyes, raised his hands, and began to spin open a gateway.

It sparked, fizzled, and Stephen gritted his teeth, leaned into it, determinedly.

The gateway began to form, and, when it had reached what he considered a viable circumference, Stephen snapped,

'Now!'

Hank lobbed the vial in.

Immediately after, Stephen tossed the paintbrush.

The gateway suddenly roared, as if alive. The normally golden orange glow blazed into a sanguine halo, then rapidly widened enough so that it was large enough to step thru. Unlike a normal gateway, where one could see the destination, the only view provided was a seemingly endless crimson-black tunnel.

Without a backwards glance, Stephen stepped in, and disappeared, like a stone dropped into a pond.

The gateway continued to rumble and blaze, and Wong exchanged apprehensive looks with Hank.

'How do we know if it worked?' Wong insisted, still at the ready.

Hank shrugged, eyebrows knotted in concern, admitted,

'I have no idea,' as he stared at the roiling crimson tunnel.

Stephen was jerked off his feet by the waves of energy washing thru the incarnadine conduit. The effect was disconcerting, dizzying, like being swept along in a violent ocean, and the power surge was so strong it took his breath away.

Luckily, it seemed the journey was over in a few seconds, and Stephen tumbled out the other end, landing on hands and knees.

He spent a few moments with eyes closed, attempting to recover from the vertigo his trip had caused, and very nearly afraid to take a breath, just in case he was somewhere without breathable atmosphere.

Cloak gave a firm ruffle, and he opened his eyes, looking down at a smooth rock floor, grained white marble, under his hands.

He took a tentative breath, and, when he didn't choke, took another.

Looked up, and sat back on his heels, jaw dropped in astonishment.

He'd landed in a fairly large room, a cave, made entirely of white marble, apparently carved from whatever mountain stood above. There were no windows, and only one door, which was closed. The room was unlit, save for the ring of his gateway, which cast an undulating ruby glow, and the fire that crackled on a hearth to his left. A bed stood close to the fireplace, and a form lay there, unmoving.

The remaining accommodations were very Spartan; a table and chair, a pantry, a small kitchen, but not much else.

He clambered to unsteady feet, squinted toward the figure, which was difficult to see in the low light.

He took a step closer, recognized Master Jades' physical form, arms folded tightly around the Staff.

Stephen nearly leapt for joy, but settled for a fist pump and a sharp,

'Yes!'

Cloak gave an excited flutter, and a bump of its hem to Stephen's fist.

Quickly, Stephen scanned the rest of the room, hoping to spot Master Jades' astral form, but obviously she was somewhere else.

It was then he heard the sounds of battle, outside the door.

Despite being muffled by the stone walls, he recognized the hideous, enraged screams, heard the distinctive blast of conjured weapons.

Without hesitation, he bolted for the door, jerked it open, stepped out into a blinding swirl of dust and ephemeral light.

He threw an arm up in front of his eyes, struggling to make out what was happening in the confusing maelstrom. It was dark, save for the light given off as eldritch weapons were used. Bolts of multi-colored light flashed in the dust hazed atmosphere, like lightning leaping thru clouds, and the ground shook. The noise was unreal, and he couldn't see any combatants, just the afterglow of their weapon strikes.

Cloak held its edges up as best it could, attempting to protect its Chosen from the buffeting, dirt-filled windstorm.

Suddenly, a fireball materialized, headed straight toward Stephen. He barely managed to dodge, and was blasted off his feet, showered by debris. Cloak threw itself over him, a protective tent.

From the swirling dust, a voice called, disbelief,

'Doctor Strange?'

Cloak pulled away enough for Stephen to see a blurry figure coming his direction.

Master Jades' glowing astral form swam into view, holding an energy shield up between her, Stephen and...something.

Something huge.

He couldn't make out what it looked like, but even in this wind, Stephen could smell it's reek, like carrion.

Stephen crawled to his feet, and she yelled, over her shoulder,

'What are you doing here?' struggling to keep the shield large enough to defend them both. The monster in the storm kept up a nearly continuous assault, hurling oozing violet black balls of energy at Jade.

Immediately, Stephen attempted to conjure his own shield, but she snarled, furiously,

'That's useless. In this dimension, you can only battle on the astral plane. You need to leave, before you get killed. I can't protect both of us.'

Stephen shook his head, protested, over the howl of the wind,

'No! I came here to help you!'

'You can't,' she snapped.

For a split second, she deflected her attention from the battle, and threw an energy bolt a him. Cloak attempted a block, but it was a useless gesture. The basketball sized bolt struck Stephen square in the chest, blew him back, thru the doorway of the cave, and into the still open gateway.

The return trip was a lot rougher ride.

Stephen flew backwards out of the gateway, hit hard, in the Hall at Kamar-Taj. It drove the breath out of him, and he watched the gateway snap closed, like a trap, with an angry scarlet flash.

He lay on his back, held a hand to his chest, panting, and met Wong and Hanks' startled stares.

'Your tunic may be on fire,' Wong offered, causing Stephen and Cloak to vigorously slap the smoking garment into submission.

'What happened?' Hank burst out, as Stephen found his feet, rubbed his aching chest where Master Jades' energy bolt had hit, examining the black scorch marks on his tunic. Cloak left Stephens' shoulders, gave a vigorous shake, throwing off dust, gave a sharp flick of its' collar, as if sneezing, before returning to its Chosen.

'You were gone only a few seconds. Did you find her?'

Confused, Stephen shook his head,

'Seconds?'

Wong and Hank both nodded.

'On my end, it was minutes,' Stephen informed, and Hanks expression lit up,

'That proves at least part of the theory!'

Wong powered his shield off, lay his weapon aside.

Stephen nodded, a bit dazed, said,

'Yes, I found her.'

Hank gave an excited laugh, and clapped his hands,

'More great news!'

Wong was considerably less demonstrative.

Indicating Stephens somewhat bedraggled appearance, he asked, flatly,

'What happened?'

Stephen gave an odd half grin, said, confused,

'She sent me back. Rather forcibly, as you can see.'

'I thought you were trying to help her?' Hank said, and Stephen winced as he rotated his shoulders.

Lips pursed, he shook his head, replied,

'I'm not exactly sure what was going on. I need to think.'

He met Hanks eager gaze, apologized,

'I'm sorry, Dr. Pym. I am not attempting to appear ungrateful. I will be happy to share with you every detail that I recall, but I need a little time to process it all. If I might have an appointment, tomorrow?'

Hank nodded, patted Stephen on the back, said,

'Absolutely, I understand. Remember, I've done a bit of other dimensional travel, myself. The first few times are a bit disconcerting.'

Stephen offered a smile, suggested,

'If you wouldn't mind, Wong, could you see that Dr. Pym gets home?'

'Certainly,' Wong agreed, watching as Stephen made his way down the Hall.

Stephen stopped in front of Jades' portrait, eyebrows knotted in confusion. Carefully, with shaking fingers, he traced her sad smile, captured forever on the canvas, and sighed, quietly,

'Why wouldn't she accept my help?'

Cloak wrapped a comforting edge of its' hem around Stephens forearm, curled its collar just a little bit closer, and gave a ruffle, its' version of a compassionate sigh.

Despite his disappointment, the slightest hint of a smile curved his lips.

He turned, squared his aching shoulders, raised his hands, spun up a gateway to the New York Sanctum.

'No, we're not giving up,' he assured his scarlet companion, and stepped back home.


	20. Particles Of Reality Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Fresh out of the shower, Stephen stood in his study, wearing sweatpants, a towel draped around his neck.

Outside the giant windows it was night, and, in deference to the ongoing, unresolved threat from Sable, Stephens' study was well lit. Ruefully, he examined the dark ring of bruises on his chest, carefully probing to see if any ribs had been broken.

His verdict was that one or two might be cracked, but, otherwise he had only bruises to show for his unorthodox journey.

At least, he thought, with a soft chuckle, he hadn't had to call Christine.

Again.

He patted on some concoction Wong had supplied, called Dieh De Jui, which, according to Wong, was a centuries old formula used to accelerate the healing of bruises. It felt quite soothing.

A sudden frown crinkled his brow, and he pondered, aloud,

'I wonder why Wong never gave me any of this when I was getting the crap kicked out of me in class?'

'Wong doesn't usually share that. You should feel privileged,' the soft voice, coming from the other side of the half open door startled him, and his brows raised in surprise when he saw who it was.

Master Jade, in her astral form.

In the hallway behind her, Stephen saw Cloak, holding her physical form, along with her staff.

'May I come in?' she asked.

Jaw clenched in irritation, Stephen gave a nod, swept his arm in a sarcastic welcoming gesture.

His annoyance wasn't lost on her, and her expression was apologetic as she came to stand by him.

'Sorry about that,' Master Jades' astral form apologized, wincing, as she indicated his bruised chest, 'I rather overdid it in my haste.'

Cloak floated close alongside them both, its' collar wearing an apologetic rumple as its' Chosen gave it a scowl.

Stephen pulled on a tee shirt, said, dismissively,

'I'm getting used to it. This profession has turned out to be rather physically demanding.'

Jade smiled, nodded, agreement,

'It's wise of you to have a Doctor on staff.'

Stephen shot her a confused look, and she shrugged,

'Christine will play a large part in your future. It's a good idea to keep her close.'

Stephens brows raised, surprised by her words, but squinched his eyes, shook his head, refusing to be distracted,

'Why didn't you let me help you? Do you have any idea how hard it was just to find you?'

'How _did_ you find me? Why did you even look for me?' she shot back, face darkening.

'It's a long story,' Stephen growled, 'One I'll be happy to share with you, once we get this sorted out.'

'You seem pretty confident you can do that,' she retorted, obviously disagreeing.

'I'm persistent, and don't give up easily.'

'Translation; you're stubborn,' Jade parried.

Cloak gave a bob of agreement, pulling a half hearted scowl from its' Chosen, to which it replied with a shrug.

Well, it was true.

Eyes narrowed, he demanded,

'I'm fully capable of combat on an astral plane. So, why didn't you let me help you?'

Jade stared at him, lips pursed, for several seconds, before she responded, sharply,

'Because you have eyes.'

Stephen jerked upright, snorted,

'What?'

Jade met his incredulous expression, her eyes flashing with anger,

'That creature was imprisoned there, eons ago, by one of the earliest Sorcerer Supremes. It's only hope of escape is to enter the eyes of another physical form. Posses that body. It can then go to other worlds, and devour all life on it.'

She turned, pacing away her frustration, as she continued,

'You can't meet its eyes unless you are in your astral form. But, if it can kill that form, or, if it can somehow get past your astral form, to your body, it will steal it.'

Stephen just stared, mortified, as she looked back to him, some of her anger diffused,

'That's why I'm perfect to battle it. Even if it kills me, I have no eyes for it to look into. I can't defeat it, but I can stop other idiot beings from coming there, and letting it loose.'

She gave a small laugh, explained,

'I threw that first fireball at you, before I realized who you were. I'm glad you dodged.'

'Me, too,' Stephen agreed, then,

'Who would condemn you to such a fate?' he demanded, indignation, and Jade managed a bitter smile,

'After I lost my eyes, the Ancient One made me aware of the threat. I volunteered.'

Looking down at her fists, clenched around the astral version of her staff, added,

'So I could still be of some small service, despite my...defect.'

Stephen didn't have a reply for that.

After a few moments, she sighed, straightened, said,

'I wanted to come here, thank you, for your gesture. I don't want you to believe I'm ungrateful. But, there really is nothing you can do.'

Stephen, hands on hips, glowered at the floor, shaking his head, and she tilted her head, confused, at his attitude.

'No,' he muttered, 'I refuse to believe that.'

Now it was his turn to pace, rubbing his chin, thoughtfully.

Cloak floated up, slightly, its' attitude expectant as it realized its Chosen was determined to come up with a solution.

He spun back, faced Jade, eagerly,

'Are you familiar with the Gyve of Noctem Eternus?'

She nodded, but her expression wasn't hopeful,

'Of course, but, its too dangerous to attempt to contain such a creature in that. It would have to be under constant guard. Sooner or later, someone would try to let it loose.'

Stephen grinned, agreement,

'That's true, but, I know someone who may be able to work around that.

'Doctor Hank Pym. He helped me find you. He designed a suit that can shrink a person to the size of an ant.'

Jades eyebrows raised, surprise, and he elaborated,

'That suit has a regulator, which prevents its wearer from shrinking eternally into a subatomic level, from which there is no return.

'If Hank could design a regulator for the Gyve, one that didn't have a limit. Use the Gyve, to trap that being. Then, we could send them to place I wouldn't imagine anyone could find, or retrieve, either of them.'

Stephen nodded, satisfaction, quite pleased with his idea,

'We could dispose of an evil creature, and a cruel Relic, all at once.'

He looked to Jade for her reaction, grinned at her slow nod of acceptance.

'I don't claim to understand the type of technology you're describing. If it can work like you think it might...'

'You could come home, back to your own reality,' Stephen finished, not overlooking the slight lift of hope her chin gave, or the quick sparkle of a tear as she smiled.

'Well, Doctor Stephen Strange,' she said, squaring her shoulders, 'It seems you may be able to assist me, after all.'

Stephen laughed, clapped his hands, offered,

'I'll discuss it with Hank, tomorrow. If we can figure this out, is there some way you can return, take me back, with you?'

He made a rueful face, admitted,

'We worked out how to get me there once, but I'm not certain we could manage it, twice.'

Jade nodded,

'Absolutely. I can't promise a specific time, just because I have to be certain the creature is secure for the duration of my departure.'

'I understand. Just...give me a few days, of our time. I don't know how long that is, to you,' Stephen apologized, and Jade said,

'Don't worry about that. When you're ready, be here, in the study, with the Gyve, and somehow, I'll manage to get here.'

She reached over, laid a gentle hand on Stephens arm.

'Thank you.'

Stephen laid his hand over hers, chuckled,

'As the saying goes, don't thank me, yet. Wait until we've succeed.'

* * *

Stephen paced his study, anxiously, while Wong sat at the desk, calmly reading.

The Gyve lay on the desk, in a locked case, immediately next to Wong.

Hank Pym sat across the desk from Wong, making a few final adjustments to the regulator, which he'd been able to fabricate fairly quickly once Stephen had explained his dilemma.

Cloak hovered close by, it's attention on its' Chosen.

Hank had displayed a few moments of confusion when confronted with Cloak's independent mobility, but he'd obviously encountered enough weird and unexplainable phenomena that he was able to move past it without too many questions.

Now, they played the waiting game.

Hank had clearly explained how to attach and use the regulator, and Stephen was confident of success.

Halting his pacing, Stephen looked at Hank and Wong, said,

'Honestly, you don't have to wait with me. It'll be fine.'

Hank gave him a surprised look, reminded,

'Hey, don't forget, I have a vested interest in this venture,' adjusting his glasses as he stood,

'I'm hoping your Master friend can help me clear up a few questions about how she can jump between realities.'

Wong, of course wearing 'Wong face', just gave a flat stare, gestured toward the weapons piled on the floor, and went back to reading.

Hank sat back down, pulled out his laptop.

Stephen sighed, and went back to pacing.

* * *

The sun had slid past the noon hour when the gateway opened, and Master Jade stepped out.

Hank came to his feet, pulling off his glasses.

Wong stood, pulling a key to unlock the case holding the Gyve.

In deference to her blindness, Stephen said, quickly,

'Master Jade!' so she knew where he was, as he stepped close.

Cloak hustled over, gently lifted it's hem to her extended hand, as she offered it a fond smile and allowed it to wrap around her.

When her astral form broke free, Hank appeared about burst with curiosity, but managed to keep his questions to himself.

For now.

Stephen quirked an eyebrow his direction, and Hank just shook his head, muttered,

'I really will have to expand the scope of my research.'

Jade cast an uncertain eye toward Hank, but Stephen clarified,

'This is Doctor Hank Pym. He made the regulator I told you about.'

She gave him a stiff nod, turned attention to Stephen, said, urgently, without preamble,

'We must go,' and Stephen nodded.

'You will need to loose your astral form, immediately upon arriving. The creature will know you're there, will target you as a means of escape.

'It will be distracted, and I can capture it with the Gyve.'

'Sounds easy enough,' Hank commented.

'It won't be,' Jade responded, shifting her attention,

'Cloak, you will have to be certain to ward your Masters' body, especially his eyes. You must keep them covered.'

'Cloak isn't going,' Stephen corrected her, and Cloak blasted onto its Chosen, hitting him so hard Stephen gave a sharp 'whoof!' from the impact, and took a step back to keep his balance.

Jade couldn't help but smile, seeing how Cloak had managed to rattle Stephen without disturbing her physical body.

Immediately, she became serious, again,

'Doctor, I strongly advise you allow Cloak to come. Its' job is to protect and assist you, especially in situations such as this.'

Scowling, Stephen looked at his comrade, advised, sternly,

'You should stay here. You've already been exposed to the cruelty of the Gyve. I don't want to risk that happening, again.'

Cloak stiffened, squared its' shoulders and floated up, gave a sharp snap of its' collar.

It's' reply was obvious; Cloak was going.

Despite his worry, Stephen smiled, fondly, at his loyal companion.

'As you wish,' he conceded.

Wong stepped up, gave a deferential nod to Jade, handed the Gyve to Stephen, and Hank passed him the regulator.

'I will ward this dimension, if needed,' Wong assured them, hefting a Wand of Watoomb to underscore his assurance.

'Let's hope that doesn't happen,' Jade said, grimly, before rejoining her body.

Cloak moved to its Chosens' shoulders, and the two Masters stepped, side by side, thru the gateway to another reality.


	21. Particles Of Reality Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Stephen was grateful that the trip with Jade was considerably smoother than the one he'd made on his own.

They stepped out, into the cave, and Jade immediately moved to lie down on the bed, free her astral body.

Cloak pulled away from Stephens' shoulders, went to hover close by, prepared to fulfill its' role as guardian.

Stepping up to Stephen, Jade took the Gyve and the regulator from him, inclined her head toward the bed, suggested,

'Feel free to share. It's better than the floor. Trust me.'

Seeing Stephens hesitation, and his awkward expression, she smiled, leaned close,

'I promise I won't tell Christine,' and winked.

Blushing just a little, Stephen nodded, and, careful to occupy the other half of the bed, loosed his astral body.

Dutifully, Cloak settled across its Chosen, wrapping its edges carefully over his closed eyes.

Tucking the Gyve and the regulator into her tunic, Jade headed toward the door.

'Shouldn't we close the gateway?' Stephen asked, gesturing toward it.

Jade tossed a steely look, explained,

'I'm leaving it open. If something happens to me, you'll at least be able to return.'

With an unhappy frown, Stephen insisted,

'What if something happens to both of us?'

Cloak gave an agitated flutter, without leaving its' post.

After a moment, Jade replied,

'If that happens, it won't matter whether the gateway is open, or not.'

Jade took a deep breath, readied her staff, informed Stephen,

'Once we step out, I'm going to seal the door with a Ward Of Protection. Just in case it slips past us. It won't be a permanent stop, but, it might buy us some time should that happen.'

Stephen nodded, sharply, and, as she reached for the doorknob, he asked quickly,

'Anything special I need to know about this thing?'

'It's _really_ ugly. Plus, it stinks,' she responded, then, to his confused expression, offered a wide grin.

As she laid her hand on the doorknob, her brow crinkled, and she added,

'As soon as it realizes it can use you to get out of here, it's going to go straight for you. Oh, and try to avoid getting hit by the purple energy balls. They sting.'

Then she opened the door, and led the way into the windstorm.

As Stephen stepped past her, snapped up a large shield, he immediately noticed the winds were considerably diminished compared to his last visit.

Behind him, Jade finished winding the argent glyph across the door, where it spun like a multi-faceted wheel.

She stepped close, her staff held at the ready, a confused frown wrinkling her brow as she scanned the dust-filled landscape.

'It seems awfully quiet, compared to before,' Stephen commented, loudly, over the wind, squinting into the swirling clouds of grey dirt.

'Yes,' Jade agreed, worriedly, keeping her back up against Stephens, 'It actually creates the windstorms, to confuse you as it attacks.'

'So, where is it?' Stephen asked, scowling.

Then, the carrion stench hit his nostrils, and an immense shadow suddenly loomed over them.

Both Masters jerked around, face first, into a hurricane force blast of dirt and rocks, as the creature lunged at them, with an ear splitting screech.

It's first blow smashed Stephen's shield into splinters of light, sent him careening, head over heels, across the ground.

He shook his head to clear it, climbing to his feet.

Jade lunged with her staff, sent a brilliant bolt of white crackling into the creature, illuminating it enough for Stephen to get a good look at it.

Well, Jade hadn't been kidding.

It was hideous.

As well as huge, towering perhaps twenty feet tall.

Jade conjured a large shield just as it spat a stream of rancid black goo her direction. Then, it battered viciously with what passed for hands against that shield, destroying it, and driving Jade to her knees.

Stephen fired several crimson fireballs, which splattered against its slimy green hide, driving it back.

That had the unfortunate side effect of drawing attention his direction. Within a second, just as Jade had warned, it recognized him as its avenue of escape.

When its' eyes met his, he understood just how dangerous it would be for this being to gain access to a physical body.

Even in his astral form, its' pulsing, three-eyed emerald gaze seemed to penetrate straight to his head. A demanding mental attack, so sharp and piercing, he couldn't suppress a scream of pain as he stumbled back, one word pounding in his brain...

 _Surrender._

If he hadn't been in astral form, he had no doubt the creature would have been able to possess his body, instantly.

Jade scrambled to her feet, bombarding the creature with sapphire lightning, turning it away from Stephen in its' efforts to block her attack.

It howled, anger, folding a defense over its face.

'Strange!' she screamed, panicked, but, with its gaze diverted, he firmed his stance, re-conjured his shield.

Waved that he was alright.

The creature, clearly spurred by rage, gave a roar, and, with a gesture, spun the power up on its windstorm.

Instantly, visibility dropped to zero, and he lost sight of Jade.

Which was bad.

She couldn't even attempt to capture the creature without knowing where he was.

His sense of direction absolutely confused, Stephen backed up, toward what he hoped was the wall of the cave, an attempt to get his bearings, but wasn't sure he was heading the right direction.

Off to his left, he saw Jade's staff blazing like a beacon, it's light cutting thru the whirling dust clouds, the violet-hued return fire from the creature.

He struggled towards her, mentally gathering his resolve.

After all, he was the bait.

Had to be.

Jade was the only one able to handle the physical Gyve in an astral body.

Glowering into the wind, he lowered his shield, hoping that would allow him to slip close without the creatures' notice.

It didn't work.

Almost immediately, its' attention turned toward Stephen.

It's desperation to escape gave the creature an edge, made its' attacks more unpredictable, reckless.

It gave a brutal swipe of its arm, striking Jade, sent her flying, off into the storm.

Stephen barely managed to re-conjure a shield to deflect yet another vicious assault.

The rapid fire blasts drove him back, the buffeting wind and debris tore at him.

Deflecting the enormous black energy balls quickly drained his strength, and he fell to one knee, with a groan. The creature screamed, deafening, stomped a massive foot. The ground shook, and Stephen spilled to his back, ears ringing, his shield once again scattered.

Then, the thing in the storm grabbed Stephen, pinning his arms in its' grip, crushing the breath out of him.

Carried him directly to the door of the cave, where it began to tear at the spinning glyph.

Gasping for breath, struggling to remain conscious, Stephen caught sight of Jade, battling her way toward them, the Gyve raised.

Saw the horror in her expression as she spotted him in the creatures' fist.

She froze, lowering the Gyve.

With the last of his energy, Stephen bellowed,

'Do it!' and fell limp in its' grasp.

Beneath the relentless assault, the glyph failed, exploded, vanished.

With a roar of triumph, the creature pounded the door with its' fist, smashing it open.

Suddenly, the windstorm fell to a dead calm, and the creature turned its' blazing green gaze toward Jade, jowls slavering, as it bellowed its' triumph.

Jade staggered, tossed a horrified look towards Stephens' battered body, still clutched in the creatures' hand.

Then, she squared her jaw, charged, rising the Gyve, fierce determination.

Before she could open it, the monstrous creature swiped at her, smashing her against the doorway of the cave.

She crumpled to the ground, the Gyve torn from her hand. It bounced, over the threshold of the cave door, spinning away across the floor.

The beast dropped Stephens' limp form next to hers, at its' feet, then turned to tear the doorway wider. Enough to allow it to bend its' massive head into the cave, intent on finding, seizing, and possessing Stephens' physical form.

The fall jolted Stephen back to consciousness, and he opened bleary eyes to see Jade, lying alongside, her face inches from his.

Jade coughed, gasped, lifted her head, realizing the Gyve was beyond either of their reach.

They'd failed.

'No...'she moaned, struggling to crawl after it, but Stephen laid a hand to her shoulder, shook his head, managed to grate out,

'Cloak,' and pointed toward the crimson guardian, hovering just inside, unmoving, between the creature, and the mortal body of its' Chosen.

* * *

Cloak had barely managed to keep calm, listening to the battle raging outside the stone walls. It fluttered, ruffled, fussed, over each new explosion, but never abandoned it's' assignment.

As the battle began to escalate, so did Cloaks' anxiety.

It sensed its' Chosens' distress, but had no way to assist him that didn't involve leaving its' post.

When the walls begin to shake beneath the monsters' violent blows, however, Cloak flashed upright, scanning the room.

It nearly panicked when it realized there was absolutely nowhere for it to go, nowhere to hide Jade, or its' Chosen.

Impulsively, it dragged the bed to the farthest side of the room, away from the door.

Moments later, the stone door disintegrated into rubble, and Cloak got a good look at the evil on the other side.

It shuddered, fear.

Then, saw its' Chosen, his astral body battered and torn, lying at the beasts' feet.

Its' initial reaction was to fly at the creature, somehow drive it away from Stephen.

Until it realized the Gyve had rolled to a stop at its' hem.

And, it knew what it had to do.

It looked past the beast to its' Chosen, met his eye, then floated up, slightly. Gave a quick flick of its' collar, to one side, hoping Stephen understood what it meant.

Stephen nodded, wrapped an arm around Jade. She understood, and tucked her head against his chest, eyes closed.

The creature was oblivious to anything but its' own escape. Seeing Cloak hovering between it, and its' intended target, it gave a shriek, and shoved its' shoulders into the room, reaching for Cloak.

Cloak snatched up the Gyve, opened it.

Stephen rolled, away from the doorway, Jade held tight to his chest, using the stone wall to shield them from being sucked into the devastating maelstrom that completely devoured the evil creature.

* * *

Stephen stepped unsteadily from the gateway, into his study in New York. Master Jade, staff clenched tightly in her hands, cradled in his arms, with Cloak clearly carrying them both.

As the gateway closed, Cloak allowed Stephen's weight back to his feet, but it was too much. Wong laid his weapon aside, a rush to catch Stephen as he collapsed to his knees, and Hank reached to take Jade's unconscious body.

Stephen offered Wongs' concerned look a weary smile, a nod of thanks to Hank.

'Did it work?' Wong insisted, and Stephen gave another nod,

'The regulator worked perfectly, Doctor Pym. The creature, and the Gyve, are gone.'

Hank, holding Jade on his lap, her head resting against his chest, laughed with satisfaction,

'Wonderful news.'

Wong gave a brisk nod of agreement, offered,

'I have rooms prepared for Master Jade, assistants to care for her, until she regains her strength.'

'Great,' Stephen mumbled, struggling to find his feet, even tho he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open.

Cloak wrapped tightly around its' Chosen, lifted him, gently.

Trusting Cloak implicitly to care for him, Stephens' eyes fell closed.

Wong stood, looked at Cloak, who gave a slight deferential bob of its collar, then quietly carried its' Chosen off to a well-earned rest.

* * *

Stephen didn't often eat in the dining room of the Sanctum, but in deference to his guests, he made an exception.

'So, the Cloak was actually the one who captured this monster?'

Hank asked, shaking his head in astonishment, as he stirred his coffee.

Stephen, devouring a plateful of bacon, eggs, and pancakes, nodded, an eyebrow tilted over Hanks' disbelief.

Hank laughed,

'I thought it was just a cloak. An animated one, but, still a cloak.'

Stephens' brow lowered, defensively, with a quick look toward his crimson companion, hovering close by,

'You wouldn't say that if you knew it like I do.'

Hank chuckled, sipped his coffee, admitted,

'Well, I'm starting to figure that out.'

Wong appeared from the kitchen, carrying a plate of bacon, eggs and pancakes to set in front of Hank.

Wong gave Hank the look, Wong face, said, seriously,

'I make excellent pancakes.'

Hank raised his eyebrows, laughed, picked up his fork.

Cloak suddenly floated up, catching Stephens attention, and bringing him to his feet,

'Master Jade!' he welcomed, with a broad grin.

Both Wong and Hank turned to watch as Cloak hurried over to guide Jade to her chair next to Stephen at the table, then hovered close behind them.

'Wong, the pancakes smell divine,' she offered, leaning her staff against the table, next to her,

'I've eaten very little in the way of real meals for many years.'

Wong hustled back into the kitchen, and Stephen settled back to his chair with a broad grin.

'The rooms are wonderful, by the way, Doctor,' Jade complimented, 'I haven't slept so soundly since...well, I have no idea.'

Stephen returned her smile, imagining he could see the sparkle of her lovely blue eyes.

Wong returned, carrying a plate for Jade, as well as himself, and settled at the table to enjoy the meal.

Hank paused between forkfuls of pancake to ask,

'Master Jade, if I may presume to ask... for some of your time discuss your journeys between realities? Once you are fully recovered, of course.'

'Certainly, Doctor Pym. I could do no less in thanks to the man who assisted Stephen in restoring my freedom.

'Oh, and eliminating a very dangerous inter-dimensional threat.

'I must warn you...I will have plenty of questions of my own, for you.'

'Excellent! I look forward.'

'I hope you like London, then, Doctor Pym,' Stephen observed, drawing a confused look from Hank, a matching tilt of Jades' head.

'As you may be aware, Master Jade, the London Sanctum has been without a Master since the assault by Kaecillius and his zealots,' Wong said, matter of factly, adding a generous amount of syrup to his stack of pancakes,

'You been chosen, by unanimous vote, to fill that position. Your previous tenure as Master of New York makes you ideally qualified.'

'Not to mention your many decades of experience battling in, and traveling between, alternate realities,' Stephen added, settling back with a hot cup of tea.

Jades' expression was absolute surprise.

After a few moments, she lowered her head, and sighed.

Quietly, noted,

'I suppose that now is when I should modestly decline such an honor, protest my lack of abilities, my obvious handicaps.'

Stephen and Wong both straightened in their chairs, disbelief, and Cloak drifted close, laid its' hem to her shoulder, as if pleading for her to reconsider.

'Jade,' Stephen began, setting his tea aside, brows knitted, 'I would have strong words with anyone who doubts your competence...'

'So would I,' Jade bantered back, flashing a grin as she raised her head, 'I'm more than competent, as well as exceptionally qualified.

'Of course I accept.'

As her sharp witted response struck home, Stephen laughed, shook his head. Cloak gave a relieved shake, and, without further comment, Wong went back to his pancakes.

Stephen reclaimed his tea, with a quizzical half smile.

Realized, looking at her,

'Master Jade, I think we shall get on quite well, together.


	22. Hubris Chapter One

The stories that follow from here on out presume that you have seen Thor: Ragnarok. If you haven't seen it yet, what are you waiting for? *grin*

You certainly may read on, even if you haven't seen it, but some things may make more sense if you have.

Going darker for this story...

* * *

Hubris~noun

Definition;

Exaggerated pride or self-confidence.

* * *

Ten

Hubris

Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts, stood on the cliff top, looking out over the restless, celadon-green Norwegian sea. The late afternoon sun was low in the sky, and the breeze swirling up from the breakers, far below, was frigid.

Stephen was glad to have Cloak between him, and the chilly Norse winds.

Cloak seemed to enjoy the silence, the crash of the waves.

It lay peacefully along his shoulders, allowing the wind to twirl it, like a gentle caress.

Despite the desolate beauty of this location, a frown knitted Stephen's brows as he looked back, over his shoulder, at the remains of Mjolnir.

Thors' Hammer.

The star forged metal lay in chunks, abandoned, and Stephen had a premonition of impending disaster when he looked at it.

What power could possibly have been great enough to destroy such an item?

What would it take, to wrest it from its owner?

He sensed, in flashes, what had happened, and none of it was good.

A shudder ran thru him, and he took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, attempting to get rid of an overwhelming sense of uncertainty.

Anxiety was crippling, and he couldn't afford it.

He had way too many responsibilities.

The glitter of a gateway opening refocused his attention, and he turned toward it.

Jade, Master of London, in her astral form, stepped thru, holding her Staff.

He noticed she'd updated her wardrobe, shedding the archaic green and black in favor of a palette of blues, accented with silver.

Which suited her.

He certainly couldn't blame her.

After a century stuck in virtually the same clothes, anyone would be ready for a new look.

She offered a fond smile, a nod, a sparkle in her pale blue eyes,

'Doctor.'

He twitched a brief smile, in return, but immediately his expression became serious again,

'Master Jade, thank you so much for coming.'

'Absolutely,' Jade responded, brow lowered as she knelt to examine the shattered Relic.

'There's no sign of Thor, or Odin?' she queried, as she stood, surveying the surrounding terrain.

Stephen shook his head as he came to walk beside her, surveying the trampled field.

Cloak lifted its' hem, gave her arm a gentle brush of welcome, and she favored it with a soft pat.

'I believe Odin is dead,' Stephen replied, drawing a sharp look, but she nodded, agreement,

'I think so, too.'

A pause, then, she asked,

'What about Loki?'

Stephen gave a perturbed scowl,

'He seems to be gone, as well. I can't detect any traces of his magic trail, beyond this cliff top.'

'There's abundant evidence of an otherworldly battle,' Jade observed, pointing to the scarred ground, and the ring of burned grass where a bridge to Asgard had been opened.

Stephen nodded,

'Yup,' his tone clipped, annoyance.

Jade gave him a puzzled look, wondered,

'What's bothering you? I mean, besides the obvious implications of all this?'

Stephen chewed his lip, briefly, then admitted, angrily,

'I'm irritated with their incursion on earth. Thor, and Loki, I mean. They caused more than enough trouble the first time they were here.

'Plus, I'm confused as to how Loki managed to hide Odin, right under our noses, without me noticing it.'

' _No one_ noticed, until Odin broke free from Loki's enchantment,' Jade corrected, 'and then, you were the only one Odin trusted enough to work with.'

Stephen didn't seem appeased, continued,

'I'm also not a fan of Thor's demeaning attitude. He seems to think he can just come here and meddle in our affairs whenever it suits him.'

Jade chuckled, reminded, with a shrug,

'God of Thunder, and all that.'

Stephen snorted, clearly unimpressed,

'He's also disrespectful,' remembering how Thor had so casually played with objects at the Sanctum, as if they belonged to him.

Knocking the Daggers Of Daveroth all over the tabletop, as if they were mere dominos.

Among other things.

Like calling said Hammer, knowing full well that doing so would destroy walls and artifacts, in its' journey thru the Sanctum. Then, offering a smug, counterfeit apology about the whole mess.

Disrespectful, and irritating.

He wouldn't even start on his grievances with Loki.

'After Thor's little visit, I had to call Master Harris in to deal with repairs to the Sanctum walls, and you know how touchy he can be.'

Jade raised an amused eyebrow, but didn't add anything further.

'I can see why Stark gets along with him, so well. They're the same kind of arrogant,' Stephen grouched, folding his arms as he looked across the field.

'I've yet to meet Stark, or any of the other Avengers,' Jade said, tone troubled, 'But, I have a feeling it won't be long, especially with what's stirring in Wakanda.'

Stephen met her eyes, saw the concern on her features, as he added,

'There's been a significant surge of activity in the multiverse. Not the good kind, either.'

'Yes, I've noticed it too,' Jade agreed, 'You believe they're connected. This...event...with Thor, and the unrest in the multiverse.'

'So do you,' Stephen responded, with a tiny, self-satisfied grin.

Jade nodded, then sighed,

'Unfortunately, until we know what we're dealing with, we don't know how to defend against it.'

'I'm doing my best to figure it out,' Stephen assured her, tersely, drawing a confused look.

'Stephen, you aren't tasked with dealing with this alone,' Jade reminded, earning an angry glare.

'Well, it sure feels that way, sometimes,' he snapped, curtly.

Jade shot him a hurt look, but didn't reply, and turned to gaze out over the sea, leaning on her Staff.

Cloak gave Stephen a sharp jab in the ribs, clearly displeased with his rude behavior, but Stephen gave a scowl, ignored it.

Cloak offered an offended ruffle in return.

After a few minutes of silence, Jade finally suggested,

'You should take what's left of Mjolnir back to New York, with you. If Thor comes looking for it, that's the first place he'll go.'

'What if someone else comes looking for it?'

Jade raised her eyebrows, gripped her staff, responded,

'I guess it depends on who it is,' with a wry half grin.

Despite himself, Stephen had to match her smile, with a shake of his head.

Still smiling, Jade headed toward her gateway, with a call over her shoulder,

'Always a pleasure, Doctor.'

'Likewise, Master Jade,' Stephen replied.

As his troubled gaze fell back to Mjolnir, he muttered,

'Exactly what am I supposed to do...with you?'


	23. Hubris Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Once he selected the appropriate spell, Stephen was able to gather all the pieces of Mjolnir, which obediently followed him back to New York.

With the fragments of Mjolnir safely ensconced in the Sanctum, and concealed under a Veil Of Obfuscation, Stephen headed off to shower, and put out of his mind whatever was brewing in the multiverse with reference to Thor and Loki.

At least, for this moment.

He had a life to live, too, and it wasn't often enough that he could set aside the burdens he carried as Master of New York to pursue...other interests.

He was actually whistling as he came into his bedroom, drawing a curious swirl from his scarlet companion.

'We're going a for a drive with Christine, today, remember?' he reminded, pulling some street casual clothes from the wardrobe, laid out shirts in a couple different colors.

He gave a brief, annoyed scowl over the necessity of polo shirts versus his formerly preferred dress shirts, but the limited use of his fingers precluded all those buttons.

Cloak swished over, pointed toward the violet shirt, and Stephen laughed, dismissing his moment of gloom.

Clapped hands, obviously looking forward to the day.

'I haven't driven a car since...' Stephen began, pulling on the indicated shirt, and his brow collapsed into dismay, his voice cracking, as he realized,

'Since my wreck.'

Cloak laid its' hem consolingly on its' Chosens' shoulder, an empathetic ruffle.

After a few moments, Stephen straightened, squared his shoulders, determinedly, shaking it off,

'I _love_ driving. Miss it.'

Sighed,

'I rented a sweet convertible. It's not my Lamborghini, but, its probably better I don't have something that fast until I get some practice driving, again.'

Cloak raised its' shoulders, confused by something Stephen had said, but he wasn't sure what it was.

He pulled on a suit jacket, headed to the kitchen.

Stephen was just finished packing a cooler with wine, and cheese, when the doorbell rang.

The rental car driver, a late twenties under-achiever, was rather nosey when Stephen answered the door, attempting to peek around, into the Sanctum,

'Rent-A-Coupe,' he said, flashing an ID badge, which identified him as 'Chad'.

'Doctor Stephen Strange?' he asked, extending a clipboard for Stephen to sign, and earning a scowl for his unprofessionalism.

'Of course,' Stephen verified as he took it, scrawled an illegible version of his signature, handed it back, while obviously blocking the doorway.

'Ah, I'll be back tomorrow, to pick it up,' the boy stalled, tinkling the keys, relentless in his curiosity.

'Yes, you will,' Stephen agreed, noticing the fellows' eyes suddenly widen as he took a step back.

Stephen flicked a quick glance over his shoulder, which revealed Cloak, who had rustled up, and hung, swaying, immediately at his back.

Stephen met the drivers' slack jawed gaze, offered, flatly,

'The breeze is _so_ annoying. It really blows my drapes around,' extending his hand for the keys.

'The-that's not drapes, and there isn't any wind,' Chad managed, as he dropped the keys into Stephen's open palm.

'Exactly,' Stephen verified, with a brittle smile, brows tight,'That's why it's annoying,' and his narrowed eyes glittered, dangerously.

Chad did his best to back down the steps, without falling, and, resisting another glance, raced off toward the curb to hail a taxi.

Stephen watched him go, with a chuckle, chided,

'You really shouldn't do things like that,' as he looked back at his companion, an amused slant to his eyebrows. Gave the keys a little toss, caught them, easily.

Cloak shifted its' shoulders, then rippled, which Stephen had identified as its' version of a laugh. It knew he was kidding, and settled on his shoulders.

Stephen checked his watch, grabbed the cooler, stepped out, closing the door behind.

He realized he was grinning like an idiot as his eyes swept the sleek lines of the steel grey Jaguar.

He set the cooler in on the floor, then walked around, ran trembling fingers along the hood, and Cloak twitched a wrinkle of irritation along his back.

Then, it gave a subtle, but insistent pull, away from the car.

'What?' Stephen demanded, resisting Cloaks' urging to back away. He was mildly peeved with Cloaks' attitude as he continued to admire the car.

Cloak gave a disgruntled fluff, to which Stephen rolled his eyes, snorted,

'Don't be angry. This piece of metal certainly doesn't replace you. I don't prefer it over you. It's just for one day. All right?'

His tone was aggravated, and Cloak responded by going absolutely limp, in protest.

'Come on,' Stephen snapped, 'How can you not love a convertible?'

Cloak responded with an indeterminate ripple.

Then, suddenly, it struck him,

'You've never been in a car?'

To which he felt Cloak shake its' collar, NO.

It was rather bizarre to have to be placating a garment about riding in a car, for heavens' sake.

The odd looks they were receiving from passing pedestrians only confirmed it; they obviously believed he was deranged.

It was a good thing he didn't care what they thought.

'Well, don't worry. I'm a very good driver,' Stephen assured, settling in behind the wheel. Cloak gripped his shoulders extra tight, quivering slightly.

With a mock frown, Stephen added, in a concerned tone,

'Usually.'

Then, just to tease,

'Except, when I crashed my Lamborghini, and nearly died.'

Cloak tightened so rapidly, sides wrapping around his chest, that Stephen gave an involuntary 'huuuf' of surprise.

He shook his head, sighed,

'Relax.'

Adjusted his mirrors, fastened his seatbelt, and fired up the engine.

It came to life, a sweet purr, and lovely low rumble of power, and Stephens' smile returned.

Cloak tightened even more, ducked its' collar down so it was hiding behind Stephens' neck, giving every indication it was terrified.

'Don't be so silly,' Stephen said, reminding, as he shifted the car into drive, foot on the brake,

'You've faced some pretty awful things.

'This is far from awful.

'This...is amazing,' moved his foot from the brake, to the gas, and pulled out onto the street, into traffic.


	24. Hubris Chapter Three

Chapter Three

It was somewhat more disconcerting than he'd expected.

Driving.

Stephen wouldn't admit it, not even to Cloak.

The memories of his accident were incoherent, at best, but still intense enough to pull a knot of fear to his throat.

He looked down at his scarred, numb fingers, gripping the steering wheel. With his extremely diminished sense of touch, he was holding on a lot tighter than was necessary. He felt the tension all the way up to his shoulders.

It also didn't help that Cloaks' collar was buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, and its' folds were gripping his chest like a vise.

He took a deep breath, forced himself to reach over, turn on some music.

That simple action was all he needed to relax.

When he did, it wasn't long before he felt Cloak unravel its' collar from his hair to peek out at the passing landscape.

He allowed himself a tiny grin, thoroughly enjoying the slight breeze tickling hair across his forehead. The sun felt wonderful, on his face.

Cloak cautiously lifted its edges to catch the air current, playfully, and Stephen said,

'See? I told you. Amazing.'

Cloak offered a wiggle of agreement, obviously quite thrilled with the play of the wind, as well as the music.

By the time they rolled up to the curb outside Christine's loft, Cloak was enjoying every minute of its' first car ride.

As the Jaguar rolled to a halt, Stephen checked his watch, smiled, glanced over to see Christine stepping out.

Perfect timing.

The look of astonishment on her face was worth it.

He put the car in park, got out to open the door for her.

'Oh, no circle of fireworks, today?' she wise-cracked, and Stephen shook his head,

'Nope. Going traditional.'

She gave a laugh, as she got into the car,

'Stephen, only you would think that showing up for a date in a Jaguar convertible is traditional.'

'I did ask you to go for a drive, if you recall,' he reminded, and he climbed back in.

'Yes. Yes, you did,' she nodded, still smiling, as Stephen pulled away from the curb, headed out of the city.

They rode quietly for awhile, trusting the music to fill the silence.

Cloak reached its' hem over the edge of the car door, windsurfing with it like a child would do with a hand. Christine just shook her head, amused, and confused, as always, when it came to a lot of things that were part of Stephens new life.

'Why? I mean, why the car?' she asked, suddenly, 'I didn't think you needed one, anymore, to get wherever you wanted to go.'

Stephen shrugged, observed,

'It's not always just about the destination. Sometimes, it's the journey.'

'Words of wisdom from Stephen Strange,' Christine intoned, mock baritone, pulling a smile to his face.

'There's much more opportunity for conversation, this way,' he added, sending a warm glance her way.

She returned it, agreed,

'Also true,' then laid her hand on his thigh, a soft caress.

Her tender gesture caught him completely off guard, caused a hopeful leap in his heart.

Gently, but firmly, he wrapped his hand around hers, gave a squeeze, which she returned.

Cloak curled a suspicious quirk of its' collar toward the display of affection, confused by the interaction, but trusting its' Chosen knew what he was doing.

They were nearly out of the city when Christine's phone began to buzz for attention.

Stephen gave an involuntary frown when Christine mumbled,

'Sorry,' and dug into her purse.

'Don't answer it,' Stephen suggested, irritably, as she scowled at the caller ID.

'It's the hospital,' she informed, worriedly.

'They have other doctors on staff, besides you. Why are they calling on your day off?' Stephen grouched, added,

'Let someone else handle it, for a change.'

Christine tossed him a disgusted look, and answered,

'Doctor Palmer.'

As she listened, her expression melted from disdain to horror, and she whispered,

'Oh, my God.'

'What is it? What's wrong?' Stephen insisted, pulling the car to the berm so his full attention could be focused on Christine.

'I...I'll get there, as soon as I can,' she stammered, looked at Stephen, face twisted in fear. It took her a few seconds to form what she wanted to say, as she disconnected the call,

'Doctor West...Nick...he took my shift so I could have the day off.

'An ER patient, wired on Meth...went psychotic, attacking...everyone...'

Eyes wide, filling with tears, she finished,

'He got ahold of some surgical instruments...Nick tried to stop him, protected the rest of the team, but the guy was...crazed...he went after Nick...'

She bit her lip, and Stephen took her hands, an attempt to calm her down.

'Stephen, Nick might die. He was covering for me...it should have been me there in the ER.'

'Better him than you,' Stephen answered, harshly, without thinking, and Christine's mouth dropped open.

Incredulous, she said, voice breaking,

'How can you say that?' as she pulled her hands out of his.

Stephen shook his head, struggling to override his frustration with reason,

'I just meant...'

Christine held her hand up, stopping whatever argument he had.

'Please, can we just...can you just...get me to the Hospital? They're taking him into surgery.'

'What do they expect you to do?' he snapped.

' _I don't know!'_ she cried, and buried her face in her hands.

Carefully, Cloak slid its' edge toward her arm, offered a soft, comforting stroke, which, for some obscure reason, made Stephen even angrier.

Without another word, he checked his mirrors, and jerked the wheel hard left, steering the Jaguar up onto the asphalt, and headed back into the city.

* * *

As the car rolled to a halt in front of the Hospital, Christine flung the door open, was ten feet away before Stephen even managed to step out.

'Christine!' Stephen called, halting on the sidewalks' edge, a hint of desperation in his tone.

She stopped, looked back, her features unreadable.

Stephen took a hesitant step her direction, sighed, spread his hands, managed,

'Call me?'

She gave a sharp nod, then was gone, without a backwards glance.

All Stephen could do was stare after her, feeling like he'd been gut punched.

Cloak tightened on his shoulders, gave a sharp shove forward, urging him to follow, which was the last straw.

'Don't tell me what to do!' Stephen snarled, viciously, into its' collar, as he spun on is heels, got back into the car, and skidded it back onto the streets.

Realized he hadn't forgotten, at all, how to drive fast.


	25. Hubris Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Cloak lay, absolutely still, on Stephen's shoulders, all the way back to the Sanctum, as if it really were only a piece of cloth.

It couldn't help its involuntary twitch of protest when Stephen turned off the radio, but managed to keep it barely noticeable.

The wind wasn't fun, any longer, just a low background noise which helped tune out its Chosens' angry muttering.

It decided not to aggravate matters any further when they arrived home, waiting until they had gone inside, and Stephen closed the door, before lifting free of his shoulders.

Despite the fact it really wanted to as soon as the car had stopped.

It was disappointed with its Chosens' ill-tempered actions toward Christine, and his rather callous attitude toward what had happened to whomever 'Nick West' was.

It floated away, towards the upstairs study, a truly dejected slope to its folds.

'Hey,' Stephen called, after it, his tone decidedly calmer, so Cloak stopped to listen.

'I'm sorry I snapped at you,' he apologized, with a deep sigh.

'It's just...'

Cloak turned, but Stephen only glared at the ornate wood flooring, hands knotted into fists. After a few seconds, it gave a shuffle-sigh of its own, and quietly returned to its Chosens' shoulders.

Waited, patiently.

All at once, Stephen jerked upright, hands throwing up shields, and startling Cloak.

'Someone was in here,' he hissed, realization, looking around the foyer, and causing Cloaks' fibers to tingle,

'Someone with the ability to circumvent spells. The Ward on the Sanctum door has been disturbed.'

Thinking fast, he decided,

'They must be after the Hammer,' and broke into a run, headed toward the Relic Room, dropping his shields in favor of a whip.

He skidded into the Room, prepared to do battle, but the Room was completely quiet. Nothing stirred, except the dust motes his energetic arrival had stirred up.

His keen eyes scoured every corner, and Cloaks' collar swiveled like radar, but there was no sign of an intruder.

He moved to check Mjolnir, but its' Veil of Obfuscation was intact, without any indication of tampering.

None of the other Relics had been disturbed, either.

Stephen quenched his whip, scowling in confusion.

Why would anyone dare invade the home of a Master of the Mystic Arts, and touch nothing?

One more thing to worry about, to jack up his mounting level of frustration.

His expression black, Stephen stormed out of the Relic Room, headed for the kitchen. He needed to brew some tea, and make an attempt to calm the mounting swirl of anxiety in his chest.

* * *

Stephen stood on the rooftop of the Sanctum, the night breeze ruffling bangs over knotted brows.

It was nearly dawn, and sleep had eluded him for a second night.

He'd been standing there, for hours.

Thinking.

Cloak lay, quiescent, on his shoulders, barely shifting in the touch of the wind.

It had been inordinately still, since their ill fated, unfinished road trip, but Stephen was too distracted to care.

He hadn't heard from Christine, but couldn't bring himself to be the one to call.

He looked out, across the artificial lights that destroyed darkness, toward his old townhouse flat. He couldn't really see it, from here, but knew exactly where it was. He squinted, fancied he could discern its profile along the skyline.

He'd lived above everyone, there; literally, and figuratively.

Above the miserable antiseptic glare of the streetlights, the constant rumble of traffic and sirens.

Bitterly, wondered who lived there, now.

He closed his eyes, remembering the seductive sparkle of the glass display cases, showcasing all the now meaningless trophies, testaments to his vanity and prowess.

The glowing ebony black of his piano, gracing someone else's home, the keys giving their music under someone else's touch.

Wondered who was enjoying his collection of vintage vinyl, which he'd sold off to pay for all his useless medical treatments.

Had they covered the beautiful wood flooring with carpets?

He could go, see.

It would be easy.

He could have Cloak take him, or open a gateway...but he shook his head, dispelling the thought, and rubbed his eyes, wearily.

That kind of thinking was ludicrous.

That life, the one he'd dedicated himself to, he'd given an oath to, was gone.

Forever.

Along with all the freedom to do as he chose.

' _It's not about you,'_ the Ancient One had told him, an epiphany at the moment she'd said it.

Now, it seemed more a curse, than a revelation.

Sometimes, he decided, maybe it _should_ be about him.

When the doorbell chimed, inside the Sanctum, he startled, looked around, realizing the sun had risen.

He unclenched his fists, but not his brows, and headed in to answer the door.

* * *

Stephen jerked the door open, because he already knew who was on the other side.

Christine.

Instead of a smile, he offered a frown, then gave a sarcastic, mocking sweep of his arm to invite her in.

Hesitantly, she entered, carrying a file tucked tightly under her arm.

He noticed she'd told the taxi to wait, prompting him to shove the door closed harder than was necessary.

He was already unreasonably irate, and that one little action goaded him into being even more difficult.

Christine looked haggard, exhausted. She was still wearing the same clothes she'd worn when he'd picked her up in the Jaguar, two days ago.

He crossed the foyer, waited at the foot of the stairs, arms folded.

'You could have called,' he accused, belligerently.

She returned his anger, snapped back,

'So could you.'

Stephen refused to back down, asked,

'Why are you here?'

Christine sighed, pulled the file into her hands, kept her attention on it, rather than meeting Stephens' eyes.

'It's about Nick,' she said, crossing the floor to stand beside him, ignoring how Stephen bristled.

'The surgery seemed successful, but he's not responding to treatments. He's loosing ground. We're missing something, and, if we can't figure it out, he's going to die.'

She extended the file toward him, but he pointedly kept his arms crossed, so she laid it on the table beside him. He gave it a cursory glance, but didn't pick it up.

'What do you expect me to do about it?' Stephen wondered, eyes narrowed, angrily.

Christine met his gaze, her expression hard,

'You're still a brilliant doctor, Stephen.'

'No, I'm _not_ a doctor, anymore,' Stephen snapped, stabbing an accusing finger toward her face,

'Nick West saw to that when he botched the surgery on my hands.'

'You know that's not fair,' she retorted.

'Do I?' Stephen blasted back, and Christine defended, outraged,

'He did his best for you, even though he knew you'd never be grateful.'

Stephen fell into a cold silence, standing stiffly.

After a moment, Christine pleaded, despairingly,

'I thought maybe you could look at the file, the films, with fresh eyes? You might see something we missed.'

Stephen barked a harsh laugh, incredulously,

'Is that why you came here? To mock me? Haven't I been humiliated enough, you want me to fail at this, too?'

Christine took a step away, hurt and disbelieving,

'Why would you even say that?'

'You, of all people, should understand why,' he bit back.

'What's wrong with you? You used to care.'

'Well, I've sure learned what a bad idea that is,'

Stephen snarked, sarcastically.

His face went completely blank, and he continued, emotionlessly,

'I can't take on anything else. I've got a lot on my plate, right now.'

Christine stared, and she matched his cruel expression.

'One of them... isn't me,' she said, and her voice cracked into a sob over the last two words. Tears spilled down her cheeks, but even that had no effect on Stephens' frozen countenance.

Without another word, Christine walked out, and it was her turn to slam the door.

Without warning, Cloak wrenched free of Stephens shoulders.

The action was so violent it nearly knocked him down.

Almost as if it were shoving him away.

Cloak hung, facing Stephen, obviously struggling with some decision.

Caught up in his outrage, Stephen glowered, nearly shouting,

'What. I suppose you think I should help? Forget it. He ruined me. Ruined my life.'

Cloak straightened, stiffened its collar, unyielding in the face of Stephens' self-righteous anger, his ridiculous pride.

Nearly crushed by its realization of a horrible truth.

Stephen Strange was no longer its Chosen.

No longer worthy of _being_ its Chosen.

He'd become someone Cloak no longer recognized.

Cloak spun away, holding a perfectly regal posture, and headed back toward the Relic room.

After a moment of confusion, Stephen followed.

Cloak flowed up onto the platform which had housed it for decades.

The glass had never been replaced. There was no need for it, with Cloak no longer in residence there.

Cloak took up its station, but pointedly kept its back toward Stephen.

Stephen glared at Cloak, hovering in its glassless former case, absolutely furious.

'I guess I was wrong, about you, too,' he sneered, with a snort of ridicule,

'You _are_ fickle.'

Cloak flinched as the words hit it, as if they were real, physical blows. It's collar quivered, but it squared its shoulders, faced straight ahead, didn't turn round.

After a few moments, Stephen stormed out of the room, without a backwards glance.

As the sound of his footsteps receded, Cloak heard the hiss of a gateway opening, and then closing.

Stephen had left the Sanctum.

Alone.

Cloak tumbled to the floor like a discarded garment. After a few seconds, it pulled itself into a ball, as tight as it could wrap, its edges covering its collar to block out the world. Every fold trembled, almost resembling weeping, and it began to rock itself, slowly, back and forth, as if the movement could somehow soothe its anguish.

Master Jades' astral form materialized out of a far corner of the Relic Room, her face a study in sorrow as she looked at Cloak,

'Oh, Stephen,' she whispered,' What have you done?'


	26. Hubris Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Stephen stumbled into his bedroom, and flopped down on the bed in an exhausted heap.

Outside the huge windows, the sun was melting toward night along the jagged city skyline.

He'd spent the day walking the city streets, attempting to find some sort of resolution to the rage and uncertainty swirling in his brain.

He hadn't slept in days, which wasn't helping.

With unfocused eyes, he looked at his phone for the millionth time, but there was still no communication from Christine, good, bad, or otherwise.

Why would there be? he told himself, resentfully.

He certainly hadn't left any doubts as to his willingness to help.

His next instinctive action was to scan the room, looking for Cloak, but it wasn't there.

'Like I care,' he complained, aloud, trying to sound sarcastic, but he didn't even fool himself.

He cared.

It hurt, to be abandoned.

Even if he deserved it.

His head gave a sudden swirl, and he laid back, closing his eyes, almost instantly plummeting into the arms of Morpheus.

* * *

Cloak had forgotten how lonely the Relic Room was.

How numbingly quiet.

Boring.

Watching the shadows lengthen, darkness ooze into the corners as the sun set.

It could hear the breath of the building as it acclimated to the onset of night, the cooling of the wood and stone and brick.

It heard Stephens' return to the Sanctum, the weary drag of his footsteps, ending at his bed.

The faint rustle of bats in the attic, bringing back a happier memory, which quickly faded, was replaced by the disquieting recollection of the terrifying encounters with Sable and his ebon cloak.

Cloak shivered, realizing they still had no idea what had become of Sable, or where he was.

Dark was dangerous for Cloak, and its Chose...and for Stephen Strange.

Cloak waited, unmoving, for as long as it could stand it.

Then, more silently than a shadow, it flowed thru the unlit Sanctum, to door of Stephens' bedroom.

Hovered, clothed in the darkness, listening to the even rhythm of the sleeping Masters breath.

Tentatively, moving slowly, it crept into the room, edging closer to the bed, where Stephen lay.

It hesitated, quaking, battling its desire to drape over its sleeping former Chosen, in forgiveness, while reminding itself of all the reasons it could not.

After a few minutes, it reached over, carefully snapped on the bedside lamp, which bathed Stephen in an aura of light.

Protecting Stephen the only way it could, now.

Stephen stirred, briefly, at the sound, the light, but didn't wake.

After another minute, Cloak swung away, its shoulders slumped, its hem edges dragging miserably on the floor as it left the room.

* * *

'He's dead, Stephen. You could have saved him,' Christine's voice hissed, in his ears, jolting him awake.

He sat up, scanning the room, but the dream had gone.

He was alone, and, outside the windows, night had long since fallen. A quick glance at his phone told him it was nearly midnight.

It also revealed continued silence from the real Christine.

He didn't remember turning on the bed side lamp...maybe he'd unconsciously done it in his sleep.

His stomach rumbled, and he realized he was also in desperate need of a shower.

Shower, then food, he decided, then perhaps some reading to distract him from the renewed turmoil, and the accusing voices, in his head.

Again, he looked around for Cloak, but saw no indication of its presence, which brought a renewed scowl,

'Whatever,' he huffed, ignoring a swell of sadness, and headed off to shower.

* * *

Stephen unloaded an armful of books onto the desktop of his study, then went to retrieve his tea and sandwich.

When he came back in to the room, he saw the file Christine had brought, laying on top of the pile of books.

He knew exactly how it had gotten there, from where he'd left it in the foyer.

Cloak.

Annoying chunk of fabric.

Irritably, he yanked it off the stack, dropped it, unopened, on the desktop.

'Ridiculous,' he grumbled, but couldn't quite resist one quick glance at the cover as he selected a book from the stack.

He settled into the tall backed chair, ignoring the file, tapped on the speaker, opened the book.

Struggling to focus, and, without thinking, he said,

'In The Air Tonight. Remake, by In This Moment.'

Just like he always did, every time he sat down to read, naming the song for Cloak.

Except, there was no Cloak there to listen.

Annoyed, he shook is head, determined not to let it bother him, and bent attention to the tome in his hands.

He'd just begun reading when his phone pinged, and an unexpected glimmer of hope lit his eyes as he checked the text.

'Strange. I have been informed you recently acquired a potentially dangerous relic.'

Wong.

With an exasperated sigh, Stephen texted a reply,

'Yes. Mjolnir. It's secured in the Relic Room.'

'I would like to verify that for myself.'

Stephen grumbled, mockingly,

'Of course you would,' as he return texted,

'Meet you in the Room.'

As he stood, laid the book down, a flicker of motion in the doorway caught his attention.

Was that a ruffle of scarlet cloth?

He went to the door, looked down the hall, but didn't see Cloak.

Perhaps he'd imagined it.

Scowling, he said, absently,

'How Did You Love, by Shinedown.'

Realizing what he'd just done, he went over, angrily punched the power off on the speaker.

Headed to the Relic Room, with a sudden lurch in his chest as he realized that Cloak would be there.

Except, it wasn't.

Cloak was nowhere to be seen, which was just as well.

Stephen didn't relish the thought of trying to answer any questions about why it had taken up residence back in its old space.

However, he couldn't ignore the wrench of disappointment in his heart, at not seeing the familiar scarlet shape.

He shoved it into the back of his mind as he distractedly walked thru all the details and precautions with Wong, hoping to rush him back to Kamar-Taj as quickly as possible.

Wong seemed determined to drag out every minute detail, and Stephen grew more irritated by the moment.

Finally, he said impatiently,

'I'm sorry, Wong, but my tea is gone cold, and so has my sandwich. Could we finish this another time?'

Wong gave him the Face, grumped,

'You must be absolutely certain this is properly cared for, Strange.'

'Well, it clearly is,' Stephen retorted, shortly.

Wong scowled even more, giving the room a quick once over.

Stephen was certain he'd remark on Cloaks absence, but he didn't.

'So it seems,' Wong admitted, adding, 'Should you notice an unusual activity...'

'I'll be sure to let you know, thanks,' Stephen finished, rudely, as he turned and headed back to his study.

He heard Wong give an outraged snort, but Stephen didn't care.

He just wanted to be left alone with the stabs of his guilty conscience.

* * *

His tea was ice cold, his sandwich was soggy, and the file was laid back on top of the pile of books.

Stephen glared at it, then checked the corners for Cloak.

Not there, of course, but clearly not far away.

Furious, he grabbed the file, intending to toss it across the room.

As he drew back to throw, his peripheral vision told him to turn toward the doorway, and what he saw made him freeze.

Cloak, wilted into a sorrowful drape, hung there. Its collar was twisted into an agonized downturn, shoulders bowed in defeat. Even its beautiful burnished scarlet seemed to have faded, and it didn't expend enough energy the keep its hem lifted from the floor.

Stephen stared at it, and as Cloak swung away, disappearing down the dark hallway, he felt his anger drain away.

After a moment, he lowered the file, laid it on the desktop.

Drew a deep breath, settled into the tall backed chair, shoulders hunched, defensively, as if anticipating blows.

He held his hands out, watched them tremble, long moments, before balling them into fists, eyes closed.

Then he straightened, sighed, and opened the file.

* * *

Dawn was lighting the horizon when Stephen stood, closing the file to lay it on the desktop, tiredly rubbing his forehead as he looked out the giant windows.

The sky was a dismal carbon grey, hinting at rain, and the temperature had clearly dropped considerably thru the night. A chill had invaded the room, and he needed to light the fireplace.

He'd read, and re-read, the file, and, despite the nagging feeling he was missing something, he kept coming up blank.

He wanted to call Christine, text her, tell her he couldn't see anything they'd overlooked, couldn't come up with any ideas other than the ones they'd already tried.

Instead, he opened a gateway to the Hospital, and stepped into the reliably vacant mop closet.

It was easy enough for him to rustle up a uniform, a face mask, and a clipboard, so he could make his way to the room where they were caring for Nick West.

This hour of the morning the halls were empty, and there was no one to question him as he stood in the hallway, looking in at the serious expressions of the Doctors clustered around the foot of Nicks bed.

Christine was curled into a chair, asleep, and the attending physicians kept their voices barely above whispers.

He squinted, eyed the monitors, which painted a grim picture of the patients condition.

Christine hadn't exaggerated.

Nick West was dying, and the once great Doctor Stephen Strange couldn't envision any way to stop it.

What was worse, he wasn't sure that he wanted to.

* * *

Since you've stuck with me this far, I guess it should be safe to assume you've noticed my naming of very specific songs in my stories. If you aren't familiar with the words, might I suggest you look then up! I select them very carefully. The songs, of course, are copyrighted to their creators! I'm grateful that their words can help the story I'm trying to tell.

Don't give up on Stephen...he still has some lessons to learn...but its always darkest before the dawn.


	27. Hubris Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Day had faded to slate grey twilight when Stephen stepped out of a gateway, onto the bank of the river, where the twisted ruin of his car had come to rest.

This was where his life had been so violently, so permanently, altered.

Cold rain pelted him, silver strands sparkling as the last of the sunlight filtered from the horizon, and night descended like a shroud. His breath congealed in the brisk air.

He could easily have put up a Shield to stay dry, but he deserved the pelting drops, each one an accusation, a condemnation, of his selfishness. Within minutes, he was soaked to the skin, and shivering from head to toe.

It didn't matter.

He stared down at the water at his feet. Beneath the night sky, it was as black as obsidian, roiling like a cauldron.

He'd hung, upside down, above it, for hours, strapped into the twisted steel of his car.

He didn't remember that, until just now.

His perfect life, wiped away, in the chilling scream of tires, shattering glass and crumpling metal.

Arrogance, replaced by desperation.

Infallibility, by failure.

Every hope destroyed, in the same callous fashion he himself had brushed aside the suffering of others, ignoring it as if he had the right to make such decisions.

Who was worthy of his gift of healing, and who was not.

How entitled he'd felt, free to belittle others, uncaring of the pain it might cause.

And yet, despite all the demeaning words he'd hurled at him over their years as colleagues, Nick still found the courage to place himself in the sights of Stephens scathing lack of appreciation.

Offering his best.

Without judgement.

Stephen glared at his trembling hands, fingers that would never again wield a scalpel, never tuck a delicate stitch, felt rage rising in his chest.

' _I never saw your future. Only it's possibilities,'_ the Ancient One had told him, as she was dying.

Had she seen this future? he wondered, bitterly. His collapse, the return to his former hubris? Rendering him unworthy of both Cloaks' loyalty, and the title Master of New York.

Unworthy of Christine's trust.

Pride so ridiculous that he would destroy himself, along with everything he'd come to care about.

Stephen tilted his face toward the sky, ignoring the sting of raindrops against his closed eyelids as his rage reached its' apex, and he realized the Ancient One had been wrong.

It _was_ about him.

His choices.

His decisions.

How he chose to deal with his demons.

Did he succumb, or rise above? Did he revert, or conquer?

He roared, fiercely, into the storm, hands sending out a violent blast of power against the sky, releasing all his pent up anguish, indecision, and pride, scattering the clouds, if only for a moment.

Felt his conflicted soul reclaim its calm as he remembered just who he was.

He was _Doctor_ Stephen Strange, _Master_ of the Mystic Arts, _Master_ of New York, keeper of Oaths, no matter how difficult.

All at once, his eyes snapped open, and he knew how to help Nick.

Frantically, he began to spin open a gateway to the Hospital, hoping he wasn't too late.

For Nick Wests' sake, as well as his own.

* * *

There was no time for mop closets. He'd deal with whatever repercussions his mode of arrival might cause after the fact.

He stepped out of the gateway, just outside Nicks' room.

The rapidly diffused orange circle immediately drew the attention of the three people standing in the room.

Christine looked up from a clipboard, moving away from the other startled physicians, and into the hall.

She surveyed Stephen, dripping wet, a crazed look in his eye, and began, angrily,

'What do you think you're doing...'

'I know what you missed,' Stephen interrupted, urgently, taking a step toward her, 'Just...tell me I'm not too late.'

Christine snapped a look over her shoulder, toward her confused colleagues, her expression morphing from anger to hope.

Shook her head, said, sharply,

'Not yet. Tell us,' and laid the clipboard into his hands.

* * *

Cloak draped across Stephens' empty bed, alone in the dark, listening to rain hiss against the glass, a random strobe of lighting occasionally twisting thru the blackness.

It was the middle of the night, and it had no idea where its former Chosen was, what he was doing.

If he was safe, in danger, in need.

Their connection had been severed.

Which was more agonizing than being trapped in the Gyve had ever been.

It curled into the blankets, seeking consolation as best it could.

Lost in absolute misery, it didn't hear the low hum of the flat black gateway swirl open across the room. The flicker of lightning hid the faint sparkle, prevented it from noticing the raven shadow which stepped out, cautiously.

Sable waited, unmoving, scanning the room, Ebon cloak swirling around him.

Abruptly, Cloak recognized it wasn't alone, jerked upright, confused, searching for the intruder.

In that moment of hesitation, Sable jabbed his finger toward Cloak.

A barbed silver strand of energy snarled around the unprepared Cloak, twisted tight.

Sable laughed as he stepped closer, no longer the weakened creature that had escaped the banishment of the Gyve.

Not only was he completely recovered, he appeared to have grown more powerful than before.

Smartly attired in suit of charcoal grey, silver hair neatly laid across his shoulder in a braid, it was obvious he'd acquired assistance from someone.

'So, Strange is off somewhere, alone?' he chuckled, watching, amused, as Cloak writhed futilely against its bonds.

'Hide, and go seek. Well, that just adds to the fun.'

With a cruel grin, he admitted,

'I've really been looking forward to this.'

He fixed a glare on Cloak, made a clucking sound, promised,

'I'll be back to deal with you, after I've disposed of your Master.'

Sable turned away, stepped into his gateway, and was gone.

Cloak went limp, trapped in the unyielding bands, helpless to prevent his departure.

Stephen Strange was no longer its...

Wait.

 _It knew._

It knew where Stephen was.

Which meant...

 _Worthy._

Cloak thrashed madly, and the barbed strands tore deep, causing it to shudder with pain.

It didn't matter.

What mattered was its Chosen would need it, and it had to get to him before Sable did.


	28. Hubris Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The storm of the previous night had cleared away, and warm amber rays of the morning sun streaked in, onto the hospital floor.

Stephen startled awake, surprised that he'd fallen asleep on the rock hard couch of the waiting room. He sat up, wincing, tossed aside the blanket that someone had draped over him.

Scanned the room for anyone who might be able to give him news.

He spotted Christine as she came in, got to his feet to meet her.

His anxious scowl was eased by her expression, a mix of exhaustion and relief.

He took her by the shoulders, gently, his question unvoiced.

She nodded, shrugged,

'The surgery was successful. His vitals are improving, already. As usual, you were right.'

Stephen broke into a smile, chided, softly,

'I'm not right as often as used to think I was.'

She managed a tiny grin, turned away, headed down the hall toward the recovery suite, and Stephen followed, uncertain what else to say.

Unwilling to let her leave.

'Christine, please, wait,' he managed, halting her.

'Why, Stephen?' she sighed, irritably, arms folded, as she met his eyes.

'I...I was just hoping...'

'What? That just because you finally...' she began, but Stephen had quit listening.

From behind Christine, he spotted a black clad figure, with a cloak, striding confidently down the sunlit hallway, toward him.

His initial confusion doubled as he realized exactly what he was seeing.

It was Sable, traversing the light, without so much as flinching.

'What the...?' Stephen muttered, taking a few steps away from Christine, towards Sable.

Christine's tirade trailed off into silence as she turned to see what had taken Stephens attention.

'Still playing Doctor?' Sable spat, face twisted with scorn and rage, but Stephen was so stunned he couldn't manage a response.

Sable laughed, paused several feet away, in a defensive stance, hands fists, held at his waist.

'Your Library of Kamar-Taj was very useful. I found several spells which grant me a few hours of immunity to daylight.'

Winked, snarled,

'Element of surprise, especially for you,' and hurled a glinting silver ball directly toward Stephen, which exploded into a hailstorm of deadly daggers, followed by two more exactly like it.

The pattern would encompass the entire hallway, spraying, not just Stephen, but Christine.

'NO!'

Stephen bellowed, lunged forward, throwing a shield up in an attempt to protect them, knowing it wouldn't be enough.

Christine was too far away from him, too surprised to run.

Blasting past his shoulder, a scarlet bolt of lightning threw itself between Christine and Sable.

Cloak.

It grabbed Christine, shoved her behind Stephens' shield, which sparked and wavered beneath the salvo of argent shrapnel.

Stephen snapped a confused glance toward Cloak, but didn't have time to wonder what had brought it back to his side.

Christine huddled at his back, flinching as Sable continued his barrage against Stephens shield, and Cloak hovered close by his right elbow.

'What do you say, Strange?' Sable taunted, not pausing his relentless assault.

'Shall I kill just you, or will your failure to surrender force me to take others?'

His attack was so fierce, so sustained, Stephen knew he couldn't maintain the shield much longer.

Flashing a look at Cloak, Stephen barked,

'Get her out of here!'

Fear for Christine was lessening his ability to make a defense, or mount an attack, dividing his attention.

Cloak shook an adamant NO, but Stephen insisted,

'Get her to safety, now!'

Cloak shuddered, indecision, torn between obedience and newly reaffirmed devotion.

'GO!' Stephen howled, forced to drop to one knee, desperately attempting to maintain his own defense.

Cloak threw itself on Christine, wrapped her up like an egg roll, and, ignoring her squeal of protest, bolted down the hall, frantically searching for what it thought might be a safe place.

As soon as Cloak had gone, Stephen looked to Sable, and gave a slight nod.

Agreed,

'I will surrender.'

Immediately, Sable ceased his attack, allowed Stephen to find his feet, all the while keeping a defensive stance.

Stephen took a deep breath, straightened, dropped his shield, said,

'Not here.'

Sable lowered his eyebrows, smiled, cruelly,

'Where, then, Master Strange? Realize, if you attempt to evade, or deceive me, I will return here.'

His threat was implicit, and Stephen knew he wouldn't hesitate to carry it out.

Stephen gave a sad smile, shook his head, wearily.

He was tired.

Sable had clearly bested him, and he realized that wasn't his only failure.

But, it would be his last.

'The Sanctum,' he decided, and spun a gateway.

* * *

Cloak blasted down the hallways, past astonished staff and patients, frantically searching for what it thought might be a safe place.

'Stop! Stop!' Christine screamed, thrashing against its tight wrap,

'Right here, this room...'

Cloak swung a hard right, into the designated room, then slammed to a stop.

'Put me down,' she insisted, more angry than afraid, 'I'll be fine, right here.'

Cloak hesitated, briefly, then unceremoniously dumped her to the floor.

She hit hard.

'What are you waiting for?' she gasped, scrabbling to her feet, 'Get back there, and help him!'

Cloak didn't pause one second.

It raced back the way it had come, but when it came flashing around the last corner, it jerked to a halt, scanning the now empty hallway.

Stephen wasn't there.

Distressed, it searched, frantically, but the connection that had led it to its Chosen, told it where he was, was gone.

Closed, or blocked.

Deliberately.

Which meant Stephen had consciously decided to face almost certain defeat, alone.

* * *

Stephen stepped thru the gateway, into the main foyer of the New York Sanctum, and Sable came thru his own, immediately opposite.

Stephen straightened, squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, met Sables icy, remorseless stare.

'I want no one to be harmed, because of me. I will agree to surrender my life to you, without a fight,' Stephen said, 'and, in response, you will swear an Oath never to return, nor take any further actions against the inhabitants of my world.'

Sable narrowed his glittering eyes, bared his silver fangs in a cruel snarl, sarcasm, disbelief,

'You would accept my Oath?'

Stephen gave a tiny smile, which faded into acceptance,

'I have seen how you keep an Oath. I trust you will honor another, even if the one you have given it to is dead.'

If Sable was surprised, he hid it well. After a few moments, he nodded, hissed,

'I give this Oath; If you surrender your life, I will neither return, nor cause harm to any of the people of your world.'

Stephen nodded, with a sad smile, looked around, one last time, at what had become his home.

Thought how unworthy of this place, his title, he'd become. Undeserving of Cloaks' loyalty, its brutally honest perception of his loss of merit. Perhaps it was even presumptuous to assume he should die here, but he had no other place he'd choose.

One thing he was very clear on; he deserved to die alone.

He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, briefly, then calmly looked straight at Sable, spread his arms wide, with a nod.

Sable raised his hands, full of the glistening silver shards, and unleashed them into Stephen, like a barrage from a machine gun.

The shards ripped thru Stephen, tearing him to shreds.

* * *

Cloak blasted thru the front door of the Sanctum, tearing the door off its hinges.

Wong charged in from the opposite side of the foyer, Master Jade, in her astral form, at his side, both having arrived via the Kamar-Taj portal.

They were just in time to see Stephens body crumple to the floor.

With a scream of fury, Jade threw a scarlet fireball toward Sable. Caught completely unprepared, he had no time to raise a defense. The blast knocked him to the floor.

Immediately, Wong lassoed him with a thick golden whip. Ebon cloak dodged the whiplash, tore at Wong, viciously. Wong gave a roar, and battled it off with one free hand, refusing to let go of the whip.

Jade hurled anther bolt into Sable to keep him down, then barked a sharp command in a harsh, unfamiliar language.

Ebon cloak shuddered, as the words hit it. It jerked away from Wong, and floated away, unsteadily, to hang in a shadowed corner, dazed.

Oblivious to the battle raging between Jade, Wong, and Sable, Cloak had frozen at the sight of Stephen, lying motionless in a spreading pool of blood.

After a moment, it moved to hover over Stephen, laid its hem to his bloodied cheek.

* * *

For Stephen, everything had gone black. Death had him wrapped in its remorseless grip, dragging him into eternal night.

Then, he felt a gentle touch against his face, recognized it, even now.

Cloak.

He channeled the last of his energy into his hand, raised it, shaking, to pull Cloak tightly to his cheek, and a peaceful smile touched his lips.

'I'm sorry,' he managed to choke out, feebly, a broken whisper.

'Loyal...friend,' he exhaled, but didn't draw another breath.

His hand fell away.

Dead.

It's' Chosen, dead

Quivering with sorrow, Cloak collapsed onto his body. Curled its edges around his shoulders, wrapped him tightly, and lifted his head to cradle against its collar. Puddled on the floor, it rocked its Chosen, knowing that, if it had been here, perhaps, somehow, it could have protected him.

* * *

Wong wrapped another loop around Sable, attempting to keep his hold, but his attention was severely divided.

Capturing Sable was essential, but he was clearly distraught by what had happened to Stephen.

Jade wasn't quite as distracted.

She swung her Staff, gave Sable a vicious bash to the skull, which sent him to the floor, barely conscious.

She spun a Containment spell around him, allowing Wong to release his hold, leaving him free to move to stand with Cloak, and Stephen.

She stood over Sable, her Staff at the ready, eyes blazing with anger.

After a moment, Sable shook his head, looked up at Jade with some confusion.

'Master Jade,' he managed, with a cough, 'I see you yet live. I had thought otherwise.'

Jade slammed the heel of her Staff against his chest, producing a grunt of pain.

'You took only my eyes, not my life,' she jeered.

Wongs' face showed absolute shock at her words, but Jade didn't have time for his questions, or his pity.

'Who sent you?' she demanded, of Sable.

Sable merely smiled, flashing fangs at her.

Clearly ignoring her query, he replied, sardonically,

'I gave an Oath to your Master Strange that I would leave without harming anyone, if he sacrificed himself.

'I'm prepared to honor that.'

Jade barked a sharp laugh, shoved her Staff firmly against Sables chest.

It gave off a silver blue arc of energy where it touched him, pulling a grimace from Sable.

'That Oath isn't binding on me,' she snarled.

She glanced toward Wong, tears trickling down his face, who had knelt alongside Cloak, and Stephen.

The sight prompted her to give Sable another slam, and he whimpered, thrashed against the Containment spell, but couldn't break free.

Straightening, she glared down at Sable.

'I won't retaliate against you for depriving me of my eyes. That loss enabled me to defend existence in a way none other could.

'It also gave me the chance to live, long enough to meet Stephen.'

She looked over, at the mourning pair of comrades, huddled around Stephens body, and her expression hardened,

'What you have done to him... I cannot forgive.'

Jade raised her Staff, above her head, like the axe of an executioner, and the length of the Staff blazed, a sapphire flame.

Sable gave a wail of absolute terror, but Jade didn't hesitate.

With a brutal swing, she brought the Staff down against his chest, and he exploded, a brilliant silver black ball of dust.

The floor rocked beneath their feet, and then Sable was gone, leaving only an outline of where he'd lain on the wood.

Jade lowered the tip of her Staff to the floor, leaned heavily on it, eyes closed, for several moments, as the dust that had been Sable settled.

She looked back to Wong, who had lifted Stephens body, begun to carry him toward the portal, Cloak hanging limply at his side.

'No! Don't move him!' she ordered, stepping his direction, garnering a confused look from Wong.

'We must return him to Kamar-Taj,' Wong insisted, 'He should be given a Masters' burial.'

She stabbed a finger at him, repeated, sharply,

' _Don't move him.'_

After a moments uncertainty, Wong lowered Stephen back to the bloody floor, dragged a sleeve across his teary face.

Jade looked at Cloak, hovering protectively over Stephen, and it gave a shiver of anticipation.

Her eyes, now bright with hope, told it,

'I need the Eye.'

* * *

It was like being struck by lightning.

An emerald explosion in his brain, wrenching a groan from him.

Stephen shuddered, thrashed, gasped his way back to consciousness.

Back to life.

He felt like he'd been dragged thru a blender, or worse, and it was as if someone was standing on his chest.

He could barely catch a breath.

He opened his eyes to see Master Jades' astral form kneeling over him, concern on her face, Wong standing at her side.

Stephen wasn't quite sure what to make of his expression.

Jade wore the Eye Of Agamotto, gleaming like a beacon, around her neck.

Stephens brow furrowed, pain, eyes and jaw clenched.

'Sable?' he whispered, fearfully, not exactly clear what had happened,

'I...I thought he killed me.'

'He did. That's why he's dead,' Jade assured him, grimly.

'Fortunately, Master Jade was able to recover you, using the Eye,' Wong added, and Stephen was pretty certain he detected the slightest quaver in his voice.

Stephens' head spun, and he sighed, softly,

'Cloak?'

Cloak slipped between Jade and Wong, hovering briefly, before dropping onto its Chosen, wrapping around him, gently.

A relieved smile curved Stephens lips, and he curled a hand into its quaking folds.

' _Gah,'_ Stephen gasped, at a sudden stab pain. Clenched a palm to his chest, pulled it away to find it covered in blood. He studied it, briefly, confused,

'Why? I thought...'

'You were moved before I was able to get to you with the Eye,' Jade explained, 'The rollback was flawed, interrupted. So, you've retained the damage of couple of Sables' strikes.'

That explained his difficulties with breathing, his swirling head.

'Oh, my God,' he heard someone gasp, from across the room.

Christine.

'Doctor Palmer,' Jade said, coming to her feet, with a look toward the smashed front door,

'Just in time. I believe Doctor Strange is in need of your skills.'

Stephen attempted to raise his head, but, his vision blurred, went dark.

Just before he passed out, he heard Jade say,

'We have a lot to talk about, Stephen.'


	29. Hubris Chapter 8

Chapter 8

A fire crackled on the hearth, filling the room with light, and warmth. Outside the giant windows, a first quarter moon rode skidding clouds thru the night.

Master Jade sat close to Stephens bedside, settled comfortably in the tall backed chair, her Staff propped against the arm. Music filtered softly thru the air.

Cloak lay, draped, half across its beloved, slumbering Chosen, half touching Master Jade.

Jade stroked its velvet softness, soothing both herself, and Cloak.

It had been a very long day.

Her hand paused, and she frowned, tracing the ragged tears she'd discovered,

'Are these from Sable? Did he Bind you?'

Cloak replied with a ripple of assent, and Jade wondered,

'How did you escape?'

Cloak shrugged, indicating it didn't matter, and a smile claimed Jades lips.

'I'd offer to mend them, but I'm guessing you'd prefer your Master do that.'

Cloak gave a twitch of annoyance at the word 'Master', which perplexed Jade, but she didn't know why Cloak would find offense at the term.

'For the record, I don't believe you were wrong to leave Stephen. Your Master has been rather...'

Cloak lifted abruptly from her lap, covered her mouth with its hem, shook its collar NO.

Jade felt Cloaks gentle rebuke, asked, puzzled,

'He's _not_ your Master?

NO.

Cloak carefully tipped her hand, so it was palm up, and traced, in sign language, one word.

Patiently, but obviously, waited for Jade to say it, aloud.

'Chosen,' she said, with an understanding nod, 'I see. He's your Chosen, not your Master.'

Cloak bobbed, affirmation, pleased that she understood the distinction.

A slight sob from Stephen caught both their attention, and Jade let her astral form free, leaning forward, to see what was wrong.

Tears leaked from beneath Stephens closed eyelids, and he reached to curl his hand into Cloak, draw it close. Its tender reveal wrenched his heart, that he had caused so much misery to such a devoted friend.

With a fond, apologetic brush of its hem, Cloak left Jade, to curl contentedly around Stephen.

It was a bit of a struggle, but Stephen managed to open his eyes.

''Chosen', huh?' Stephen sighed, tiredly, looking at his scarlet comrade.

Cloak snuggled its collar tight to Stephens cheek, gave a nod.

Stephen managed a ridiculously happy grin, then turned an accusing look on Jade,

'You can use the Eye.'

She laughed,

'Of course. How do you think I was able to alter a week so I could paint your portrait? I needed my Staff, as well. I couldn't disrupt the entire earths timeline, just to indulge myself.'

After a moment, Stephen asked, quietly,

'Is Sable dead?'

Jade squared her shoulders, replied,

'Yes. His dust is in an urn in the Relic Room.'

Stephen clenched his eyes, tight, groaned, held a hand to his chest, and Cloak gave an anxious flutter. He felt so weird, and not just because of the injuries.

That was pain he recognized.

This was something altogether different.

'Dizzy?' Jade asked, and Stephen nodded, wondered,

'Is it from the Eye?'

'Yes. It's not exactly as easy as just turning back time so you aren't dead,' Jade explained, 'There is a price to pay for that journey. You'll sleep, probably for several days.'

Stephen made a face, complained,

'That didn't happen to Wong when I unwound his death.'

Jade burst a laugh, shook her head,

'Oh, yes it did. Don't let him tell you otherwise.

'There's always a price to pay when you use an Infinity stone.'

'Or, have one used on you,' Stephen amended.

'Rest well, Stephen. There will be plenty of time for us to discuss just how ridiculous you've been, recently.'

Stephen winced, admission, but didn't reply.

His eyes fell closed, bringing another smile to Jades lips, as she assured him,

'Wong, or I, won't be far.'

Cloak gave an offended ripple, and Jade chuckled,

'I'd venture to say Cloak will be right here, where it belongs.'

Cloak fluffed an affirmation, contentedly, and Stephen sighed,

'Thank you, Jade.'

Jade pulled her astral form back, stood, laid a gentle hand to Stephens shoulder,

'I could have done no less, Stephen.'

As she made her way from the room, she stopped by the speaker, said,

'Play 'Infinity', by The xx.'

Tilting her head toward the inseparable pair, she smiled, softly,

'For you, my friends.'

* * *

Wong was waiting in the study, his concern for his friend barely concealed, especially from Jades' heightened perceptions.

Jade laid a reassuring hand to his forearm,

'Don't worry, Wong. Given some time, he'll recover.'

'Thank you, Master Jade,' Wong replied, attempting to keep his voice neutral, but Jade heard the relief in it.

'You have Doctor Palmers' number, should you need it. I believe she intends to check in, regularly.

'I'm heading back to London. I'll return, tomorrow, but be certain you keep me updated.'

'You are visiting the Relic room, before you go?' Wong asked, his tone hardened, and Jade nodded, sharply, not appreciating the judgmental turn in his voice.

'Would you like me to accompany you?' Wong offered, but Jade shook her head, gripped her Staff tightly,

'No. I'll be fine.'

* * *

The Relic Room was barely lit, which didn't matter to Jade. She had learned to move easily thru a dark world.

Using her Staff, she confidently navigated her way to the farthest, back corner, where she settled into a dusty armchair, loosed her astral body.

Stepped close to a tall, rectangular glass case, covered in a swirl of silver black fog.

With a brief wave of her hand, she lightened the Curtain Of Night spell she had placed there, enough so she could see the being confined within.

Sables' black cloak hung inside, looking disoriented, confused, but, when it realized she was there, it faced her astral presence. Occasionally, the cloak swirled, testing the boundaries of the spell, only to return to hang in front of her.

A speculative frown knotting her brow, Jade observed,

'I'm afraid you'll need to wait a few more days before your fate is decided.'

Grimly, she informed,

'Wong won't be in favor of any leniency. I can't even begin to guess how Stephen, or Cloak, will react.'

The black cloak gave an anxious sway, raised a smokey fold toward her, almost gently, but the spell blocked its access to her.

Jade raised her hand, a brief answering gesture, then her hand folded into a fist, and dropped to her side.

She stood, very still, contemplating her captive, for several minutes, until she gave a sharp sigh, shook her head.

Briskly, her astral form rejoined her body, and reformed the Curtain Of Night.

Then, without a backwards glance, left the Relic Room.


	30. Hubris Epilogue

Hubris

Epilogue

The blonde haired young man, clad in the red robes of a Kamar-Taj apprentice, climbed the stairs briskly, came rushing into the studio apartment. He didn't even pause to admire the New York skyline outside the windows. Didn't cast a glance at the glass cases lining the wall, nor did he stop to wipe his feet, before crossing the carefully maintained wood floors.

Instead, he hurried to the man who stood before the wall height windows, looking down at the city, hands folded behind his back.

'Master Mordo,' he began, breathlessly, and Karl Mordo turned, raised his hand in a casual gesture, halting him.

Mordo gave a pointed scowl at the dirt on the fellows' shoes, then raised a sharp gaze to meet his eyes,

'Whatever your news, Scott, it could have waited for you to take your shoes off.'

Scott gave a small, preemptive bow, in apology, blurted,

'Master, Sable is defeated, dead.'

Mordo raised a surprised eyebrow, asked,

'Strange?'

'Gravely wounded, but he lives.'

Mordo sighed,

'How disappointing. I wonder if my brief visit to the Sanctum the other day put Stephen on alert? I did disturb the Ward.'

'Nothing was mentioned about that, Master.'

Mordo looked back out the window, contemplating the news.

After a moment, he said, with a smile,

'This was his flat, you know.'

'Doctor Strange lived here?' Scotts brows raised, surprise, and Mordo nodded,

'Easier to understand his arrogance, once you stand here, isn't it? To understand why he isn't worthy to wield such power, such authority.'

Scott nodded, agreement.

Mordo looked back out the window, and, after a moment, decided,

'I guess I'll have to deal with Strange, myself, if I want it done properly.

'Thank you for your diligence, Scott. I'll continue to look forward to your reports from Kmart-Taj, as well as your ongoing...discretion.'

Scott flashed a pleased smile,

'Of course, Master Mordo. I appreciate your confidence.'

* * *

Wow. Thirty chapters, across just over a year of time.

I honestly intended to out a 'Season Two' header right before I rolled this particular story out, but I rather forgot.

So. The next story will begin Season Two of 'Perspectives From A Cloak'! I should have enough stories keep us all busy until 2019 and the next Avengers reveals everyone's fate...which we won't even discuss here! Suffice it to say I have confidence that Doctor Strange and his crimson companion will come out of it all just fine, ready for many more adventures together.

Also some exciting news: very soon I hope to have links to original artwork available to view! I have cover art from story one, character sketches of Jade, and Sable, and more in the works! If you can't wait for me to get them posted, feel free to email me, and I'll be happy to send it your way.

A HUGE THANK YOU TO ALL OF YOU, MY LOYAL READERS! I read and cherish every single review and comment. Please feel free to direct new fans this way; my real hope is that Marvel might, some day, pick these stories up for serialization.


	31. Season 2, Chapter One The Other Lane

Season Two

Chapter One

The Other Lane

Someone was pounding on the front door of the Sanctum Sanctorum. It thundered thru the building, resounding thru the walls.

Doctor Stephen Strange sat up in bed, shook his head, groggily, attempting to pull himself awake.

It made no sense, to beat on the door.

There was a rather obvious doorbell available.

Aside from the fact that it was the middle of the night.

Stephen decided to ignore it.

There were often pranksters on the streets, after dark, and he had no interest in satisfying their quest for amusement.

He was weary, so dreadfully weary.

He flopped back into the blankets, but whoever it was apparently wasn't going to give up so easily.

The pounding began, again, and finally, with an irritated moan, Stephen dragged out of bed. Pulling on a T shirt and jogging pants, he headed down to the foyer.

It seemed a lot darker than than usual in the Sanctum. He could barely see.

Rubbed his eyes, blinked, but it didn't help.

Odd.

Stephen jerked the door open, wearing an aggravated scowl.

Someone was standing there, swathed in shadows, their features concealed by a hooded sweatshirt.

'Are you Doctor Stephen Strange?' the figure queried, voice peculiarly distorted.

Stephen nodded, preparing to ask what the problem was, when he was hit square in the face by a fist wearing brass knuckles.

Then, hit again.

The third blow dropped him to the floor, barely conscious.

As a pair of fists roughly grabbed hold, his last thought before plummeting into blackness was,

'Where is Cloak?'

* * *

It was the foul odor that roused Stephen, an unrecognizable stench that made him gag.

He attempted to move, couldn't.

Forced his eyes open, jerking wrists and ankles against the zip ties which bound him to a chair.

They held tight.

He couldn't even move his hands enough to attempt a spell.

Blood from his smashed nose dripped slowly to his lap, spattered on the floor, his bare feet.

Fighting down a swell of panic, he scanned the barely lit room, empty, save for him, and his chair.

At least, he assumed it was a room; he couldn't see any walls, or a ceiling. Even the light source was as ambiguous as it was dim.

'Finally,' a voice observed, and the hooded figure solidified from the surrounding shadows, to stand in front of him.

Stephen squinted, attempting to discern any features of his captor, without success.

'Who...' Stephen began, his voice cracked, 'Who...are you?'

His captor chuckled, an unnerving sound that seemed to echo endlessly.

Then, in an absolutely emotionless tone, replied,

'I was the one in the other lane.'

Bewildered, Stephen shook his head, stammered,

'What?'

The dark figure turned away, began to pace, back and forth, in front of Stephen, head lowered, so no hint of an identity was revealed.

After a minute, began,

'Your accident.

'Did you ever think about the person you hit, that night? You, in your car that cost more than most people could make in a lifetime?'

Stephen closed his eyes, suddenly recalling everything, in chilling detail.

The distraction of a phone call.

Drifting across the center line, as he was passing, in a no passing zone.

On a ridiculously treacherous stretch of highway, in the rain, at night.

The clip of a fender, against another vehicle, skidding his Lamborghini out of control.

He'd seen pictures of what was left of his car.

He should have been killed.

Often, when looking at his hands, wished he had been.

He had never thought to wonder what had happened to the person he'd hit. They would have wrecked, too, wouldn't they?

'Oh, the news was all about you,' his captor went on, mockingly,

' 'Famed Doctor, injured in horrific crash...'

Paused, and Stephen looked up.

'Then, there was me. Barely a blip on the radar.'

Stephen blinked, struggling to meet the eyes of his abductor, without success. The features seemed smeared, like an unfinished painting, and, try as he might, he couldn't clear his vision. He couldn't even discern whether the figure was a man, or a woman.

The voice became accusatory,

'What did I loose? Do you know? Did you bother to find out?'

Stephen bowed his head, admitted,

'No,' a self-reproaching groan.

'And yet, you still dare call yourself _Doctor,'_ voice now a sneer,

'When you care more about yourself than you ever did anyone else.'

As if from a great distance, he felt something gently, but insistently, shaking his shoulders, a velvet soft brush against his cheek.

Cloak.

Stephen jerked against the zip ties, holding him to the chair, realizing the entire room was swimming out of focus.

Suddenly, understood what was happening.

A dream, a nightmare.

Of course.

Still standing in front of him, his captor, drifting away into dust, snapped a final threat,

'We're not finished, Stephen.

'We'll talk again, one day.'

A chilling laugh,

'That's the nature of personal demons. We're never farther away than the other lane.'

* * *

Stephen sat straight up in bed, covered in sweat, and instantly regretted the abrupt, albeit reflexive, action.

It hurt.

A lot.

Then, he recalled the lethal confrontation with Sable.

Jade, the Eye, Wong, his beloved Cloak.

His bedroom was dark, save for the small island of light from the bedside lamp.

He was alone, except for Cloak, which hovered immediately at his side, tapping its hem edges together, swaying anxiously.

And Wong, snoring softly, asleep in a chair, pulled up close.

Stephen fell back against the pillows, with a heavy sigh.

Cloak drifted over, settled carefully across its Chosen, tucking its collar close to Stephens' neck.

Stephen wound his trembling hands into Cloaks comforting folds, pressed his cheek tight to its collar.

'Please, don't ever leave, again,' he breathed, an agonized whisper,

'I need you...to remind me...how to deal with my demons.

'Not abandon me to them.'

Quivering with sadness at Stephens plea, Cloak wrapped itself tightly around its Chosen.

Brushed his cheek, tenderly, an assurance.

Stephen smiled, and his eyes fell shut, as Cloak gently rocked him to sleep.

* * *

Welcome, all, to Season Two of Perspectives From A Cloak!

I'm excited to have welcomed many new readers in the past few weeks, I have added a new feature I hope you will enjoy. If you would care to see artwork related to these stories, simply look up 'ladystephaniestrange' on instagram.

on February 8, 2019, I put up cover art for this story!

I will label the story that each piece is associated with. I also put up 'works in progress' pictures, so you can see how the creative process works for me. Please, let me know what you think!

I want you to know I read and treasure all the feedback you share; it means so much to me!

A lot lies ahead for our inseparable duo: I hope you will all stay tuned!


	32. 2 Broken Things chapter 1

Season 2

Two; Broken Things

Chapter One

Late morning sun sparkled thru the giant windows into Stephen's bedroom, gilding all it touched. Stephen stood in front of them, comfy in a tee shirt and sweatpants, sipping a cup of tea, meditating on how great it felt to finally be back on his feet.

Even Cloak, hovering close at a his elbow, seemed a more glorious crimson, bathed in the comforting gold aura.

Everything seemed brighter, felt more hopeful, in sunlight.

So, when Christine arrived for her morning check in on his health, Stephen offered a warm smile.

She gave a brisk nod, but no answering smile.

She was wearing her neutral professional expression, which hurt more than the injuries did.

Her beautiful eyes were hard as she indicated he remove his tee shirt.

Apparently, he really had ruined everything, with her.

Briskly, she took his pulse, his temperature, gave his nearly healed wounds a brief inspection, while Cloak supervised closely.

Surveying his pale features, she ordered,

'You need to eat,' without meeting his gaze.

'I will prepare something,' Wongs voice broke in, from the doorway, as he strode over, hands clasped behind his back,

'Would you care to join us, for breakfast? Master Jade should be arriving, shortly.'

Christine gave a nod, a kind smile,

'Thank you, Wong, but I'm late for work, as it is,' and Wong actually smiled back.

Stephens brow crinkled into a twist of annoyed amusement. Apparently, Wong actually could smile when he felt like it.

'I appreciate your assistance, Doctor Palmer.'

'Absolutely,' she assured, as she gathered her bag, coat draped over her forearm.

Wong gave a small bow, then headed for the kitchen, leaving Stephen alone with her.

'You're recovering faster than I expected,' she admitted, finally meeting his eyes.

Stephen twitched a smile, shrugged,

'I'm told its one of the perks of my job,' as he winced, slightly.

Christine scowled, angrily, admonished,

'You've got to stop doing this, Stephen. I can't keep putting you back together.'

Stephen smiled, gently, lowered his gaze, but didn't answer.

After a moment, he queried,

'How's Nick?'

'He won't be able to get back to work for a few weeks, but, otherwise, good.'

She shifted feet, awkwardly, shrugged,

'Thank you, for that.'

Stephen nodded,

'Give him my best.'

Christine opened her mouth, as if she were going to say something, but apparently changed her mind. She gave him a small, forced smile, and headed out of the room.

Stephen pulled his tee shirt back on, sighed, as he watched Christine leave, without a backwards glance.

Cloak had followed her, briefly, but stopped short of leaving the room.

'Well, I guess I really messed that up,' he commented, with a grimace.

Cloak swung back to face him, its collar curled into a melancholy curve.

Stephen couldn't help but smile,

'You like her, don't you?'

Cloak nodded, sadly.

Stephen lamented,

'Well, so do I. But, I'm pretty sure I slammed that door shut.'

Cloak gave a swish, like a sigh, followed by a shrug, bringing a smile back to Stephens face,

'Maybe you're right. She might give me one more chance.'

Cloak gave a happy nod, with its collar, and swirled onto his shoulders.

'I'm thinking I need to visit the Relic Room,' Stephen decided, 'I haven't checked on Mjolnir since before all this happened, and I want to see where they stashed Sables' urn.

'We should have time, before breakfast.'

Cloak gave an energetic fluff of agreement, and the pair headed off toward the Relic Room.

* * *

Wong was humming quietly as he whisked pancake batter, but gave a quick glance up as Master Jade came in to the kitchen..

It never ceased to amaze him just how well, and how silently, she negotiated her surroundings.

He was convinced the Staff had something to do with that.

She carried half a dozen books, as well as some parchment scrolls, which she moved to lay on a nearby countertop.

'Master Jade,' he acknowledged, and she gave a nod of greeting.

Whatever she was about to say was cut short by a resounding blast of sound, like thunder, from the Relic Room, and the walls shook.

Wong nearly dropped the bowl, and she gasped,

'You let Stephen go to the Relic Room?'

'Not intentionally,' Wong shot back, as he set down the bowl, then offered his arm to guide her, and they bolted toward the Relic Room.

* * *

The two Masters skidded to a halt at the entrance to the Relic Room.

Master Jade dropped to her knees, pulled away from her body, into her astral form, to stand alongside Wong.

Stephen stood in the far corner of the room, facing a glass case, a shield in one hand, a fiery eldritch sword in the other. Cloak clung to his shoulders, its edges curled to defend Stephens sides from any assault.

The Curtain Of Night spell shrouding the case had been severely damaged, and the glass behind it was cracked, but still intact.

Stephen smashed the case with his sword, over and over, rocking it on its base.

Inside the case, Sables black cloak had backed into a corner, giving every indication it was terrified.

Wong and Jade made their way thru the room, quickly, but cautiously, to be certain Stephen noted their approach.

As they came into his peripheral vision, Stephen tossed them a glare, lowered the sword.

'Who brought this, here?' he demanded, furiously, pointing toward the smokey cloak with his sword blade.

Jade snapped back,

'I did.'

'You knew this was here?' Stephen accused Wong, who growled,

'Knew, but did not agree with. It was only out of respect to her, as Master Of London, that I deferred to her request.'

Jade slanted him a nasty frown, which Wong ignored.

'You said Sable was dead.'

'He is. This being is not part of Sable.'

'It worked with him. Participated in his evil. It deserves to be destroyed,' Stephen snarled.

'You are wrong, Master Strange,' Jade corrected, sharply, taking a step closer, 'and, I think you should get your facts straight before you make such a sudden, harsh judgement.'

Stephen glowered at her, and Cloak swirled on his shoulders like a storm.

Wong scowled, but kept silent, and all four of them focused their attention on the being in the case.

Trapped in its glass prison, the smokey black cloak now hung, quietly, clearly awaiting a decision as to its fate.

After a few moments silence, Jade suggested, firmly,

'So,' with a tap of her Staff against the floor,

'Maybe we can discuss this, calmly, over breakfast?' as she reformed the Curtain Of Night spell.

After a second, Stephen quenched his sword and shield, but his scowl lingered on the case.

Wong shook is head, irritably, hands clasped behind his back, and left for the kitchen.

Stephen turned his attention to Jade, his expression black, but Jade merely squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, unintimidated, and returned his glare.

Finally, Stephen relented, and turned away from the silver shimmer of the case, to head off to breakfast.

Cloak gave a subtle twitch, then pulled away, to hang facing the case, like a sentinel.

'I agree,' Stephen said, an angry edge to his tone, 'Someone should watch it.'

Jade tossed him a snarky look, then left, ahead of him, to reclaim her physical form.

As she came to her feet, Stephen, his anger somewhat subsided, stopped to offer her his arm. After a pause, she slipped her hand, stiffly, into the crook of his elbow, and allowed him to lead her from the Relic Room.

Cloak rustled closer to the case, collar at attention, prepared to do whatever was needed to protect, not only the Sanctum, but its beloved Chosen.

* * *

Apologies to all for the delay in posting Chapter Two, but I've been busy creating art to support these stories. If you haven't yet had a chance to see any of it, head over to my instagram account, Ladystephaniestrange. I look forward to comments and reviews on both story and art!


	33. Broken Things Chapter 2

Two

Master Jade dropped the stack of books and scrolls onto the tabletop, lifting a small poof of dust, which Stephen waved away with an irritated flick of his hand.

He had to admit, after enjoying breakfast, and some fresh tea, his attitude had improved.

Somewhat.

At Jades insistence, they'd gathered in the Relic Room, close to the glass case containing the black cloak. She'd been adamant that Cloak be able to hear what she had to say.

Jade took a chair opposite Stephen, choosing not to release her astral form, while Wong opted to stand, wearing a fairly stern version of 'Wong face'.

Cloak hung carefully between Stephen, and the case.

'What's all this?' Stephen wondered, indicating the pile of books and papers.

'Documentation. So, when you doubt what I tell you, it'll be easier for you to do the research, yourself.'

Stephen gave an annoyed huff, which Jade ignored.

With a brief wave of her fingers, she lightened the Curtain Of Night spell on one side of the case enough that they were able to observe the being held within.

It shifted back, into the furthest corner.

After a moment, she began,

'Sables cloak is a _smocka,_ or a _smeocan_ , a creature formed of smoke. Speculation suggests their original purpose was to be guardians.

'The existence of these creatures was first recorded in the 12th century. There is no record of how they were made, or who made them.'

'There are others?' Stephen responded, surprised.

'At one time, apparently so. But, considering all the artificial light we have now, who knows? As I'm certain you are aware, they cannot tolerate light, especially sunlight.'

Jade drew a deep breath, added,

'They are not inherently evil, but they can be held, forced to serve, by those with the knowledge of how to do so.'

' _You_ commanded it, sent it away, in the battle with Sable,' Wong pointed out, pulling a surprised look from Stephen, who, of course, had not seen that.

Jade nodded,

'Yes. To remove its intervention, and prevent its destruction.

'I'm hoping to offer it a reprieve, an opportunity to show us what its really like.'

Stephens scowl deepened as he processed what she'd told him.

It was impossible to decipher what Wong was thinking.

Growing angry, Stephen leaned toward her,

'You don't realize what you're asking.

'Sable imprisoned Cloak in the Gyve. Then, after I'd captured him, this... _creature.._..' he jabbed an accusing finger toward the case,

'Helped him escape.

'Not to mention its role in the events of our more recent encounter.'

Jade lowered her head, nodded,

'I understand what you're saying, Doctor. I am prepared to defer to whatever you, and Cloak, decide.'

'What prompted you to research all this?' Stephen wondered, suddenly curious.

Jade laid her hand to the books, and, after a long pause, replied,

'After my first encounter with Sable, a century ago, I thought it might be a good idea to know more about him, and his cloak.'

Her back, ramrod straight, her voice, strained.

Stephen leaned closer to her, his voice low,

'How did you know Sable?'

Wong shifted his feet, and Stephen realized he already knew what she was going to say.

'He was the assassin who took my eyes,' Jade answered, gripping her Staff so hard her knuckles were white.

Stephen leaned back, sucked a sharp breath, shot an astonished look with Wong.

Wong held his unblinking scowl, hands clasped behind his back.

Cloak gave a startled jerk their direction, its collar scrunched with some undefined emotion.

After taking a few moments to fully grasp what she'd just revealed, Stephen shook his head.

'I...guess I don't understand why you're defending this creature, then,' he admitted, a confused laugh, surprised that she would be so forgiving.

Jade tilted her head, contemplating his words.

'It's called compassion,' she defined, an edge of irritation,

'This being, this cloak,' she gestured toward the case, 'has been enslaved, against its will, for decades. Longer, perhaps.

'No one knows what it will do, when allowed its own choices.'

Stephen looked to Wong, obviously for his opinion.

'The smeocan is clearly dangerous. It has served evil,' Wong stated, flatly.

Jade didn't flinch, but waited, calmly, silently, for Stephens thoughts.

He glared, belligerently, at the smokey being, which had cautiously edged closer to their side of its prison, keeping to the shadowed side of the case

It was difficult to look at it, and not recall all the wrong it had offered him, and Cloak.

Cloak narrowed its collar at the black cloak, an obviously unfriendly stance.

Stephen breathed a deep sigh, then dragged the stack of books and parchments closer.

'Right now, I admit I'm exhausted. I'm afraid I need a few hours rest. Then, allow me some time to look over what you've brought, and possibly do some research of my own.

'If you could give me until tomorrow.'

Jade nodded,

'Absolutely no rush.'

After a moment, she apologized,

'I'm sorry, Doctor. I had intended this matter wait until you'd recovered.'

She stood, turned toward Cloak, offered one last thought,

'Cloak, throughout all your existence, you've been able to choose if, or whom, you will serve.'

Cloak wrinkled its collar, twitched in unwilling agreement.

'I implore you, allow this fellow being the same freedom.'

She raised her hand, to reform the Curtain of Night, but Stephen came to his feet, said,

'Please, don't, if you wouldn't mind. It can't escape, and I'd like to be able to observe it.'

Jade hesitated, then nodded, slightly.

'I have duties, in London,' she told them, before moving away, leaving the Relic Room.

Stephen stepped close to the glass, frowning. Cloak moved tightly at his left side, causing the black cloak to retreat into the darkest area of the case.

Wong stepped alongside, at Stephens right, and the three glowered at the internee, considering what Jade had said.

After a few minutes, Wong rumbled,

'I don't understand why Master Jade would spare a being such as this,' glancing at Stephen for his agreement, but Stephens brow had softened.

'She's seen more of the multiverse, experienced a lot more, than either of us, Wong,' he reasoned, quietly,

'I'm not prepared to discount her request, without considering all the facts.'

Cloak turned its collar toward him, sharply, not necessarily pleased by the apparent softening of its Chosens position.

Wongs expression never altered.

'It's your decision, Master Strange,' he said,

'But, consider that, if you allow it to exist, and it does more harm, you are accountable.'

Cloaks collar gave a jerk of agreement, and it floated up, just a little, to be certain Stephen recognized its opinion.

Stephens eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly, mild annoyance, that they both had already made up their minds.

'Your opinions are duly noted,' he sighed, rubbed his forehead, wearily, then headed off, without a backwards glance.

Wong tossed an extra glare at the black cloak, then followed.

Cloak twitched its collar, uncertain whether to stay and guard the case, or to follow its Chosen.

The black cloak cautiously crept forward, hesitantly raised an edge, apparently a gesture of appeasement, or apology, paired with a sorrowful downturn of its collar and shoulders.

Cloak stiffened, shoulders back, collar pointing toward its one time opponent, charged abruptly, aggressively, toward the glass.

The black cloak dodged back, but didn't fully retreat.

Instead, it sifted to the floor of the case, dissolving into an almost indistinguishable pile of swirling dust and shadows.

Cloak gave a confused shake, its collar still held in an angry curve.

It watched, waiting, but the dusty pile that was the black cloak didn't stir.

With a petulant fluff, Cloak looked back, toward where Stephen had disappeared, then decided it would be safe to follow, trusting Jades spell was more than sufficient to contain the despised being.

As it reached the threshold of the Room, it snapped around, as if expecting to see the black cloak doing something, like attempting to escape, but it was still lying, an indeterminate puff of black, on the floor of the case.

Cloak narrowed one last look its direction, then left.

* * *

I thank everyone for their patience and kind words! In addition to preparing for a big Comicon trip, I'm also working on art to support these stories, so I apologize for the delay!

Much more to follow...please continue to send those reviews...they keep me inspired!


	34. Broken Things chapter 3

Three

Stephen ruffled thru the stack of parchments, the pile of books, forehead knotted in concentration. He'd relocated his study to the Relic Room, so he could observe their ethereal captive as he went thru the information Jade had provided.

Cloak hovered at his elbow, dividing its attention between the black cloak and Stephens random muttering.

He paused, occasionally, to tap notes on his MacBook, and once, even left to retrieve some volumes from Kamar-Taj.

The black cloak kept itself tight to the shadows, but was obviously observing, intently, everything that occurred outside its prison.

Day melted into evening, then, into night.

Stephen had turned on a desk lamp, turning his study area into the only light spot in the giant room.

As the shadows encroached, the black cloak became bolder. It crept up, close to the glass, focused on its captors, its edges resting against the transparent barrier, like claws.

Stephen was so absorbed in his research he didn't notice the menacing turn in its demeanor until Cloak gave him a nervous poke, then pointed.

Stephen turned his attention to the creature, came to his feet, slightly alarmed by its now ominous behavior.

'I did remind you how dangerous that is,' Wongs voice came, from the dark at his back, startling Stephen so much he jumped, jerked around.

Wong merely stared, eyes narrowed into a glare.

He stepped closer, carrying two plates of food, one of which he offered to Stephen.

Stephen nodded, slowly, eyebrows puckered into a contemplative scowl as he accepted the plate.

'I've researched everything Master Jade provided, as well as a few other references,' Stephen informed Wong, as they cleared a spot at the desk to eat.

'What have you concluded?' Wong asked.

Stephen chewed his lip, briefly, before replying,

'I think we need to speak with it.'

Wong didn't react, but, then, Stephen didn't expect him to.

After a moment, however, he wondered,

'Why?'

Staring at the black cloak, Stephen said, quietly,

'I have a few questions I need answered.'

The black cloak swirled around the perimeter of the case, diffused, then reformed.

Its manner was agitated, but focused on its three guards.

Wong looked at Stephen, skeptically,

'Seriously?'

'Yes,' Stephen nodded, emphatically.

'You believe this creature capable of communication? That it will understand, and offer coherent responses?'

'Absolutely. I have no difficulty communicating with Cloak. Its replies are very seldom unclear, and I don't see why this cloak would be any different.'

'It could lie.'

Stephen shook his head,

'I don't think so. That's a human trait.'

He flicked a look toward Cloak, clarified,

'I don't think beings like this are capable of anything but truth.'

Cloak squared its shoulders, proudly, gave a tiny nod, affirmation.

Wong gave a slight grunt, which Stephen took to be agreement, as they settled down to eat.

'I want Master Jade to be here. I found written text of its native speech, but, according to what you've told me, she's already fluent in pronunciation and vocabulary.'

'You don't think it understands us?'

Stephens attention shifted to the black cloak, and he narrowed his eyes at it, growled,

'Oh, I'm quite certain it understands us. I just don't want there to be any confusion.'

The black cloak narrowed its collar, in response.

Cloak came in, very close to the glass, and leaned toward the black cloak, its hem edges raised, balled up like fists. A warning, or, possibly, a threat, maybe even both.

The black cloak gave its collar a toss of indifference, spun away, a casual dismissal.

Wong and Stephen exchanged a baffled look, not at all certain how to interpret the antics of the being.

'I'll ask Master Jade to join us, tomorrow morning,' Stephen decided, 'In the meantime, I'm going to form a second Curtain Of Night spell around it, then get some sleep.'

* * *

I apologize to all my peeps for the long delays in updates! I've rather been occupied with art, so it'd be great if you all would have a look at my latest work. A super detailed portrait of Stephen and Cloak. It's instagram, LadyStephanieStrange. Now I've finished that, I'll hoping to get a bit quicker at getting going on this season of Perspectives From A Cloak! I REALLY APPRECIATE the feedback from you all! It's been fun seeing the different responses to the black cloak. It's fate will be decided in the nest installment!


	35. Broken Things Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Three Masters of The Mystic Arts gathered in the Relic Room of the Sanctum Sanctorum, New York, prepared to pass judgement on smeocan. All three stood in the circle of sunlight on the floor, which blazed in thru the huge round window.

Stephen swirled his Curtain Of Night spell aside, which left the creature still imprisoned in Jades.

Once it realized how much light was outside its prisons' three dark walls, it shifted nervously back into a corner.

Jade, in her astral form, her Staff gripped tightly, her expression tight, looked to Wong, then Stephen, who nodded.

They had agreed, earlier, that, given her familiarity with the beings native speech, Jade should be the main interrogator.

Stephen had speed studied what he'd had available, and felt he had a grasp of the language, but both he and Wong would have to rely on Jade for an accurate translation.

Stephen, Cloak on his shoulders, holding a rigid stance with its collar, stepped forward. Jade on one side, Wong, the other, and addressed the captive, formally,

'Smeocan, I am Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of New York. This is Jade, Master of London. This is Wong, Master at Kamar-Taj.

'We are here to decide your fate.

'Do you understand?'

Jade repeated, in the harsh edged dialect, what Stephen said, and, when she did so, the black cloak swirled closer to the front of its cage, clearly intrigued.

It looked toward Stephen, then back to Jade.

'Do you understand?' Stephen repeated, and, before Jade spoke, it nodded its collar,

 _Yes._

Stephen gave a satisfied nod, pleased that he'd been right. He stole a glance at Wong, but, of course, he was wearing Wong Face, which never revealed anything.

Jade couldn't suppress a faint smile. It hadn't been too difficult to convince her of the need to learn more about this being before making any decisions.

'You served Sable for a very long time,' Stephen observed, waiting for Jade to translate, and black cloak bobbed, agreement.

Brow lowered, Stephen took a step closer, asked,

'What will you do, now that your Master is dead?'

As Jade spoke, the cloak replied slowly, deliberately, _No._

'You will do nothing?' Wong asked, sharply, but Stephen shook his head, disagreement, realizing,

'Its not answering what it will do. It's clarifying something else.'

Jade nodded, agreement, but, before she was able to speak, the black cloak swung, faced Stephen, floated up to eye level, hung very still.

Stephen took a deep breath, another step closer. On his shoulders, Cloak trembled, gripped tighter.

'Sable is dead,' Stephen stated, his tone low and powerful, 'Was he not your Master?'

The black cloak came up, touched the glass, swirling, as Jade repeated the question.

It hesitated, then shook, firmly,

 _NO, NO, NO,_ then slammed smokey fists against the glass.

Startled, all three Masters stepped back, and Cloaks edges instinctively curled to protect its Chosen.

The black cloak jerked away, spun angry loops around the prison, then stopped, hung, facing them, its form roiling like a bubbling cauldron.

Stephen glared at the creature, Jade was clearly shaken, and Wong wore a fierce scowl.

After a few moments of shocked silence, Wong observed, flatly,

'Perhaps it was unwise to spare this being.'

Jade shot Wong an angry look, as Stephen shook his head, eyes focused on the ebon cloak.

'I don't know about that, but I do think we should keep it. See if anyone shows up looking for it.'

'It's true Master?' Jade offered, deliberately, watching the cloak closely for a reaction to her words.

'That would be me,' a voice crackled, as a billowing black cloud formed opposite the trio of Masters. A slate grey portal opened, revealing a tall, lean figure, wearing soot black clothes, standing within.

He had a shock of raven black hair, coal black eyes, and pointedly didn't step out of his aura of self made night.

Immediately, Jade dropped her Staff into a defensive angle, Wong pulled up eldritch shields, and Cloak threw its edges up, preparation.

Stephen, however, stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest, fingers curled, ready to attack, or defend, whichever he deemed necessary, depending on the newcomers intent.

'And, you are?' he sniped, and the fellow smiled.

He had ridiculously bright white teeth, and didn't seem at all intimidated by their aggressive stances.

'Cwellan Leoht,' he replied, with a slight bow.

'Killer Of Light,' Jade whispered, an edge of fear in her normally confident tone.

The fellow scowled, made a wry face, corrected,

'Well, that's a very literal translation, but not super accurate. I prefer to be thought of as a Creator Of Darkness.'

The three Masters exchanged confused looks, and Cwellan sighed, exaggeratedly, rolled his eyes,

'Just call me Wisp. It's much less terrifying.'

Surveying their expressions, he shrugged,

Ok, I admit, its not the greatest moniker, but, hey, what can I say? Modern times call for updated definitions.'

Cautiously, Stephen lowered his hands, not quite certain how to react.

Wisp narrowed his gaze at Stephen, and the humor went out of his demeanor,

'I've come to collect my cloak.'

All three glanced toward the cage as he pointed.

The ebon cloak threw itself tightly against the glass, then broke away to race around the case in excitement.

'Your cloak?' Jade repeated, and Wisp nodded, clarified,

'Yes. I created it.'

'It served Sable,' Wong retorted, pulling a frown to Wisps brow.

'Sable stole it from me, centuries ago. Enslaved it, hid it.

'Now that he's dead, I'll become its Master, again.'

'What Master do _you_ serve?' Stephen demanded, drawing a flash of anger from Wisp.

'I do what profits me, in service to no one, but myself.'

He paused, clarified,

'For the record, I define my alignment as chaotic neutral.'

'This creature of yours has been party to much evil. Did you create it, so?' Wong snapped, still holding his shields up.

Wisp tilted his head, a curious twist to his features,

'I guess that depends on your definition of evil. Left on its own, this one,' he pointed toward the captive cloak, 'Would be more like a mischievous child.'

After a second, he amended, with a devious smile,

'Perhaps, a naughty child.'

Ebon cloak drew back, an offended huff of smoke flicked from its shoulders.

Despite the situation, a tiny grin twitched the corner of Jades lips, and she dropped her Staff tip to the floor.

'What is your intent, Wisp?' she wondered, looking at the dark cloak with a strangely sad expression.

'As I said, I've come to take my cloak to a safer realm.

'Once, this dimension held enough darkness that we could survive here.'

Wisp scowled,

'Now, its become a world full of lights. Your kind doesn't even allow the nights to be dark. There's never time to rest, to embrace that beauty.'

Stephen lowered his hands, bemused by Wisps odd behavior. He certainly didn't appear to offer any threat. His affection for the smokey cloak was obvious, as was its attachment to him.

Stephen recognized the strength of such a relationship.

He also recalled how he'd felt, when Cloak had been lost in the Gyve, and that memory clinched his decision.

Wong and Jade both looked at him, awaiting his verdict.

'If you will agree to leave, peaceably, with this creature, I will allow it,' Stephen decided.

Cloak gave an annoyed twist along his shoulders, but it was half hearted.

Wisp looked at him, for a long moment, with a completely astonished expression, then exploded into hysterical laughter.

His outburst was so boisterous it shook dust from the ceiling beams.

Stephen, Wong and Jade had no idea how to take that.

'My dear Masters,' he finally managed, wiping away a tear or two, 'You aren't in a position to allow, or deny, me anything!'

To demonstrate, he gave a wave of his arms, expanded his cloud of blackness so it enveloped them all, nearly filling the room.

Protected from the sunlight, he stepped up to Stephen.

'Master Strange, I respect you. A mortal, who faced, and defeated, Dormamuu, but that's the extent of my tolerance. Don't attempt to interfere with me.'

His tone was matter of fact; a warning, rather than a threat.

Stephens brows lowered, a twitch of annoyance, but he said nothing.

Wisp turned his attention to Jade, flicked a quick glance toward her physical form, which rested across the room in the tall backed chair, and his expression seemed to soften,

'Master Jade, I appreciate your kindness in sparing my cloak, when you could easily have allowed it to be destroyed.'

Jade tilted her head, smiled, acknowledgment.

Wisp looked to Wong, spoke a short sentence in an unfamiliar language, which Stephen realized must be Wongs native tongue.

Wongs response was a curt nod, accompanied by a slight bow.

Stephen met Jades eyes, gave a nod of approval.

The three Masters stepped away, and Jade dissolved her Curtain Of Night, freeing the ebon cloak.

It tore past them, a whirlwind, to twine onto Wisps shoulders, pulling a broad grin to his bold features.

He spoke softly to the smokey companion, shared a gentle touch, then tightened his expression.

With a casual wave, he recalled his cloud of night, collapsing it into a narrow gateway, where he stood, a moment longer.

Contemplating Stephen, and Cloak.

Wisp chuckled when his cloak wobbled its collar, mockingly, at Cloak; Stephen imagined if it'd had a tongue, it would have stuck it out.

Cloak stiffened its collar, followed by a dismissive snap, directed toward the ebon cloak.

'I see I'm not the only one with an unruly partner,' Wisp observed, and Stephen deadpanned,

'You have _no_ idea.'

Cloak gave a fluff, feigned offense, and Stephen smiled.

After a long pause, Wisp said,

'I wish you well, Master Strange,' offering his hand to Stephen, who, after a brief moments' hesitation, shook it.

'Perhaps our paths will cross again, one day.'

Stephen agreed,

'Perhaps they shall.'

Then Wisp, his black cloak curled on his shoulders, took a step back, closed his dark gateway, and was gone.

The sunlight, still streaming in thru the giant window, suddenly seemed exceptionally bright.

'You may regret that,' Wong said, but Jade tapped her Staff, disagreement.

'Given our complete lack of knowledge of Wisp, I think cooperation was a good choice.

'I mean, seriously...'Killer Of Light',' she reminded, with a brief shiver.

Stephen, still staring at the spot where the gateway had closed, concurred,

'There's certainly no reason to make an enemy, without cause. One never knows who might be a valuable ally, some day.'

All three stood, quietly, for some moments, before Stephen cast a sharp eye toward Wong, asked,

'What did he say, to you?'

Wong straightened, tightened his jaw.

Wong face.

No surprise, there.

'I have students waiting, at Kamar-Taj,' he informed them, briskly, and headed off towards the Portal.

Stephen shook his head, shrugged, sighed, looked to Jade.

'Well, that may not be exactly the outcome you'd hoped for, Master Jade, but at least the smeocan is freed.'

Jade shot him a confused scowl, and he clarified,

'Or, am I wrong, thinking you were hoping the smeocan might become yours?'

She pulled back a bit, surprised, then an amused smile shaped her features,

'Doctor Strange, you are, indeed, a very perceptive man.'

Stephen laughed, then, admitted,

'Not as often as I'd like to be.'

* * *

Once again, I find myself apologizing for the long delay between chapters! I hope to get back on track pretty soon. On a side note new pix are up on the Instagram page.

An epilogue will follow for this story, then I have a few other ideas to explore for our dynamic duo.

Please please R&R I love to hear all your thoughts!


	36. Broken Things Epilogue

Epilogue

Stephen was exhausted.

It was nearly midnight. His injuries twinged, a reminder that he should have been to bed a long time ago.

Instead, he'd gone to the roof of the Sanctum.

For some reason, his encounter with Wisp had made him melancholy.

He gazed out, across the city, as he often did, and realized Wisp had been right.

There was no dark, no gentle brush of starlight, only the cold sterile glow of streetlights. No silence, just a constant barrage of discordant sounds.

In contrast, Cloak wrapped contentedly around his shoulders, its collar resting peacefully against his neck and cheeks.

He lay a hand to its folds, where it draped over his forearm, gave a soft brush of affection, and Cloak responded with a gentle squeeze.

'You understand, right?' he asked, 'Why I let the smeocan go?'

Cloak was very still for several seconds, then offered a tender stroke along the back of his hand, which he needed no interpreter to translate.

 _Of course._

He gave a satisfied smile.

As he heard a soft rustle of fabric, he glanced behind him.

Master Jade made her way carefully across the rooftop, to stand beside him. She hadn't come in her astral form, which seemed somehow fitting, given the surrounding night.

She turned her eyeless face up toward the sky, the warm breeze shifting hair along her shoulders.

Cloak stretched out an edge, gave her a fond embrace, to which she responded with an affectionate pat.

She shared the silence awhile, then offered,

'Good place to think, on the roof.'

He looked at her, curiously, as she admitted,

'I'm often on the roof, in London.'

After another silence, she wondered,

'Second guessing your decision?'

'No,' he answered, tersely, 'How could I condemn the smeocan, who's only real transgressions were not of its doing?'

Jade nodded, agreement.

Stephen sighed, wearily, looked back out over the city, his brow troubled.

Jade waited, patiently, for him to decide how to put words to whatever was bothering him.

'Kaecillius,' he finally said, 'My first foe.'

She turned toward him, inquisitively,

'A zealot, albeit a misled one, so I heard.'

Stephen raised an eyebrow, surprised that she would know that, then continued,

'He said to me that Kamar-Taj was a place that collects broken things.'

Jades expression became confused, as he continued,

'Of all the lies he told...that one statement, I believe to be absolutely true.'

'How so, Stephen?' she asked, her tone sympathetic.

He shrugged, explained, sadly,

'It seems that, every day, I deal with broken things.

'Broken beings, like the smeocan.

'Broken hopes, and expectations.'

He fell silent, examining the smashed watch on his wrist, thinking of Christine,

'Not the least of which, are my own,' his tone soft, reflective. He straightened, voice now bitter,

'I imagine that's why I fit in, with...all this...' he gestured broadly, 'so well. Because I'm broken.'

Jade sighed, corrected, firmly,

'Stephen, you're here, not because you're flawed, or broken, but because this is where you belong.'

She emphasized her words, as she often did, with a sharp tap of her Staff against the rooftop, which sent a ripple of power that Stephen felt thru his feet.

Cloak gave him an extra squeeze, a collar wriggle of agreement, and Stephen managed a slight smile.

'Thank you, Master Jade.'

She laughed,

'Always pleased to be of service.'

As she swung away, opening a gateway to the London Sanctum, she added,

'Actually, I came to see if you'd care to join me, for tea.

'In London.'

Stephen chuckled, tiredly, pulling Cloak tight around his chest against a sudden chill,

'Can I hold that invitation for another time? As much as I'd love some tea, I'm afraid the day has rather caught up with me.'

'You're welcome, at any time, Master Strange.'

* * *

Has anyone else ever wondered what's at 177B Bleecker?

Well, get ready to find out...


	37. 177B Bleecker Street

Season Two

Two; 177B Bleecker Street

Chapter One

Stephen whistled his way across the main foyer at 177A Bleecker, wearing jeans and a tee shirt, heading for the front door.

It was wonderful to feel...well...wonderful. He was actually looking forward to grocery shopping, which he usually dreaded.

Having effectively been a shut in the past two weeks, he was ready for any excuse to head outside for some fresh air, and a brisk walk.

Moving without pain was the best.

He was also anticipating lunch at his favorite local deli.

Cloak whisked to his shoulders, from wherever it had been, cuddling in tightly, and he chuckled,

'Yes, yes, we're going out.

'Wong has done a lot of cooking for me, which was really considerate. I thought I might surprise him with a nice meal, tomorrow, after we finish teaching at Kamar-Taj.

'Plus, the pantry is about empty. I need to shop.'

Stephen locked the Sanctum doors behind him, came briskly down the steps, looking down at the grocery list on his phone. Made his usual turn on to the sidewalk, and nearly took a header over the construction sawhorse blocking the way.

After the enforced abrupt halt, he surveyed the torn up sidewalk in irritation.

From the pools of water all along the street, he surmised there must be a ruptured water main.

Since the street was basically blocked off, he decided to slip between the sawhorses and the row of houses, rather than go round the entire block.

It was a narrow passage, between the sawhorses and some fencing, but doable.

As Stephen dodged the caution gates, it brought him closer to the building immediately adjacent to the Sanctum.

As he brushed against the fence, a slight tinkling sound caught his attention, as if something very thin had shattered, but he couldn't see any reason for it.

An odd sensation crawled along the back of his neck, and he stopped, looking at the house.

It was marked,

'177B Bleecker'.

The sign was scuffed, bedraggled, hung crookedly by one screw on front pillar of the ramshackle porch. A ratty, rusted stretch of bent chain link fence separated the house from the main sidewalk, denying access to the door. Heavy linked chain, secured with a ridiculously large padlock, wrapped the sagging gate closed.

Scowling, Stephen realized he'd never once wondered what might be at 177B Bleecker street.

Actually, he'd never even noticed this building. All the times in and out of the Sanctum, he'd not once glanced this direction.

He'd also never passed this close.

Something about it made the hair on his neck bristle.

'Have you ever noticed this house, before?' he asked Cloak, quietly, and Cloak shook its collar,

 _NO._

He surveyed the stone structure, which, unlike the Sanctum, was crusted with climbing ivy and moss.

The windows on the first floor were shuttered, but the ones on the two upper floors weren't exactly right. Their shapes seemed almost warped, the glass overly reflective, while still giving the feeling that they absorbed light.

He narrowed a keen eye at the eaves; they were discreetly lined with high end security cameras, which were way out place on such an apparently run down property.

'That's so weird,' he muttered, brow furrowed, as he pointed, and Cloak gave a ripple of agreement.

'It's probably just some recluse, guarding his privacy.'

He chewed his lip, as Cloak gave a bob of agreement with its collar.

Cautiously, he tugged at the padlock.

A brilliant red flare shot out, giving him a jolt like an electric shock, knocking him back a step, into the sawhorses.

After a brisk shake of his head, to clear away the buzzing, Stephen shook his numb arm, angrily, and decided,

'Alright, we're going in.'

Cloak gave a slight pull away, a gentle tap against his chest, a reminder of his very recent recovery.

Stephen shook is head, swirling on his Masters robes to replace the street attire, so he was properly prepared.

'That was a Ward Of Protection. There's a Master, of some type, in there, or been there,' he told Cloak, who immediately came to full alert.

'I definitely need to know who's at 177B Bleecker.'

Cloak lifted him up, over the fence, set him down gently on the uneven sidewalk.

Cautiously, Stephen climbed the creaky steps, onto a small porch.

Unlike the porch, the door was very solid, with the same thick, opaque leaded glass panels as the Sanctum.

No doorbell, no knocker.

Stephen reached hesitantly for the doorknob, the memory of the padlock shock clear in his memory, and he felt Cloak cringe over his shoulders.

He winced, realizing that Cloak would have gotten its share of that jolt.

His arm still tingled, and his hand ached, but he was determined, and laid his palm to the handle.

When he didn't get blasted, he gripped the handle, pushed it down, expecting to feel the resistance of a lock.

It clicked, unlatching easily, and Stephen pushed the door open, slowly.

It was pitch black inside. Stephen squinted, but couldn't see anything.

He considered a Light spell, but honestly didn't want to draw any more attention to their breaking and entering than he had to.

Tripping the Ward would certainly alert whoever had placed it, but Masters often set Wards to protect locations when they were away.

So, it was possible the house was empty, but not a good idea to assume so.

Hands held at the ready, he crossed the threshold.

He stepped into something which seemed like viscous material, but wasn't actually there. It was like walking thru a wall of half set up jello.

It made him dizzy, nauseous, but the sensation passed, quickly, when he took a second step.

The door swung shut behind them, and what little light there was disappeared.

It was dark.

Unnaturally dark, and silence lay like a blanket. He couldn't even hear himself breathe.

Cloak clung to Stephen, and he could tell it was on high alert, its collar stiff against the back of his neck.

Stephen was just about to call up that Light spell, when the scrape of steel rasped thru the blackness.

'Declare yourself, unknown Master!' a voice commanded, and a sword blazed alight, nearly blinding him. The blade crackled and swirled like a welders arc, silver blue.

Hand thrown up to protect his eyes, Stephen stood tall, squinted toward the unseen sword wielder.

'Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the New York Sanctum Sanctorum,' he responded, fearlessly. Cloak held its edges up, in readiness, for whatever was to follow.

The steel blue-white arc of the blade faded to a more viewable wattage, and light from a grand chandelier flooded the large foyer.

A woman stepped toward Stephen, who was doing his best to blink away the spots the flashing blade had caused in his vision.

She swept the sword up before her face, swung it aside, a salute,

'Welcome, Master Strange. I am Glynn, Master of the New York Sanctum Alternatus.'

* * *

I thank all of you, yet again, for your patience, loyalty and reviews! I assure you, I have no intention of ending these adventures anytime soon. Cloak and Stephen have a lot to do between now and the next Avengers movie!

I read and treasure every review!

Be sure to keep up with my portraits and art work as I am dividing my time betweeen those and writing.


	38. 177B Bleecker Street Chapter 2

177B Bleecker Street

Chapter Two

'Excuse me?' Stephen blurted out, a confused shake of his head, 'What are you talking about, ' _Sanctum Alternatus'_ ?'

'It means 'Alternate Sanctuary',' Glynn chuckled _,_ in a conspiratorial tone, leaning in, with a wink.

'I know what it means, I understand Latin,' Stephen snorted, irritably, and she laughed, her green eyes sparkling... no, wait, blue eyes...uh, brown?

Stephen blinked, sharply, shook his head, again, wondering if his vision was still being distorted from exposure to the brilliance of her sword.

He looked back to her, squinting.

She simply sheathed the weapon, and waited, quietly, for him to finish trying to figure out what was going on.

She wasn't tall, perhaps five foot five, with shoulder length steel grey hair.

That was blonde.

Or, black.

Dark brown, maybe?

Hold on.

Hadn't she been wearing white, when she first confronted him? Now, her tunic was emerald green...

Utterly confused, Stephen took a step away, fell into a defensive stance.

Spinning up a Compel Truth aura, he growled,

'I'll have the truth, from you,' and threw the purple ring at her.

Faster than he could see, she drew her sword.

With a casual swipe of the blade, she shattered the aura, returned the sword to its sheath.

Stunned, Stephens mouth dropped open, but, before he could decide what he should do next, Glynn apologized, with a rapid wave of her hand, shake of her head,

'Oh, sorry, sorry. A reflex. My bad.

'Recast, and I will not resist, Master Strange. I have nothing to hide.'

Stephen didn't hesitate, and the violet ring dropped, encircled her.

'What _are_ you?' he insisted, knowing there could be no deceptions spoken under the influence of the arc.

'No different than you,' she replied, with a shrug, clearly unconcerned by the aura, as her appearance continued to swirl, alter.

'Once, a student at Kamar-Taj, now appointed Master, defender of this Sanctum.'

She pointed, directing his attention toward a wall sized mirror to his right.

Stephen looked, at what should have been his reflection, but wasn't, quite.

His hair color swirled, black, auburn, blonde, white.

His beard came, and went.

His tunic, style and color, varied from moment to moment.

Watching, Cloak threw its edges around Stephens chest, absolutely baffled, and rather frightened.

But, Cloak never changed.

No matter what shift in appearance its Chosen made, Cloak was the one constant.

It was always Cloak.

After watching a minute, Stephen lowered his hands, looked back to her, features twisted in confusion.

'It's not me,' she said, anticipating his next question, 'It's the building.

'It's situated on a Reality Overlap. We're actually shifting between the fringes of multiple realities. That's why our appearances keep changing.

'It's disconcerting, at first, but you get used to it.'

'Why doesn't my Cloak change?' Stephen wondered, and Glynn paused, head tilted, as she considered.

'I have no idea,' she admitted, offering,

'May I show you?'

Stephen considered her, a few moments longer, then, dissipated the Aura, freeing her.

She turned, headed across the foyer, obviously expecting Stephen to follow, so he did.

Cloak clung to Stephen, afraid it might loose him, its collar curled under as if to prevent it seeing the constant changes to its Chosen.

Glynn headed to an open door on the far end of the foyer.

She hesitated, briefly, in the doorway, then stepped aside, inviting him to precede her into what would be a sitting room, in his building.

This one was crammed full with surveillance monitors, computers, and all sorts of other equipment whose purpose Stephen couldn't even guess

He recognized camera views of Bleecker Street on one screen, but there were dozens of other panoramas; from where, he had no idea.

'The random reality shifts, at this location, make it a great invasion point for a wide variety of dangerous beings.

'Thats why these buildings were built here, why they're adjacent. A dual defense, for earth.

'You defend your one reality, we deal with multiple ones.'

Stephen quirked an eyebrow, keeping his glance toward her brief, noted,

'We?'

'Myself, and Conner. He's around, somewhere. I'm sure you'll meet him, eventually. There's just too much going on for any one Master to keep track of.'

Hands on hips, she considered him a moment, before commenting,

'I'm actually surprised you haven't been here, sooner.

'I heard you've dealt with a couple dangerous beings that we could've interred, rather than risk holding them in your reality.'

She grinned, added,

'This is a great prison.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about, since I clearly found you by accident,' Stephen shot back, frustrated,

Glynn shook her head, a judgmental tone,

'The Ancient One should have made you aware of this location, when she named you Master of New York. Knowledge of its existence is proprietary to the Sorcerer Supreme, the Master of the Sanctum, and no one else.

'You really do need to know, about this place.'

Stephen made a disgusted face, said,

'There are a lot of things I wasn't told about this job.'

Stephen sighed, felt compelled to elaborate,

'There wasn't much time for a briefing. Master Drumm had been slain, and we were preoccupied with stopping Kaecilius, and Dormammu.

'Then, she was killed.'

Glynn nodded, thoughtfully, added,

'Well, I'm pleased you found us, at any rate.'

A sudden realization hit Stephen, and he insisted,

'Hold on. If you've heard about me, why did you challenge me, when I came? You didn't recognize me?'

'Ah, heard of is different than met,' she shook a disciplinary finger, 'I've not seen you, before today. Besides, the resident Master doesn't commonly come in the front door.'

With a hint of amusement, added,

'Or, trip Wards.'

Stephen gave a groan of frustration,

'How does he come in, then?'

'There's a concealed door, in your Relic Room. Just left of the window. Brings you straight to my main foyer.'

Stephen closed his eyes, brows knotted, in confusion. Cloak was clinging to him so tightly it was difficult to move, and attempting to look at Glynn, long enough to engage in meaningful conversation, with her constantly scrambling appearance, gave him a headache.

This was a lot to take in, for certain.

He took a deep breath, held it, briefly, exhaled,

'I have to say, of all the bizarre things I've experienced since becoming a Master, this is pretty close to the weirdest.'

She laughed, as she led the way across the foyer,

'This place is 'bizarre', indeed, but never boring.'

As they paused before the ethereal door back to his Sanctum, she suggested, an edge of loneliness in her tone,

'Perhaps, you'll visit, one day, on purpose.'

'Doors open from both sides,' Stephen reminded, with a guarded smile.

'So they do,' she agreed, green eyes studying him, closely, her hair nearly the same steel grey color as her tunic.

As he met her eyes, he realized her appearance had stopped changing, and he could see what she really looked like.

Noticing his confusion, she explained,

'We're at the far edge of the influence of the reality shifts, which allows our appearance to remain fairly constant.'

After a moment, she smiled,

'Now, if we ever cross paths when we're out getting groceries, we'll at least recognize each other.'

Stephen grinned, nodded,

'Indeed,' and his attention dropped to the blade she carried.

'That's quite a sword,' he noted, and she chuckled,

'I was wondering when you'd ask.'

His eyes narrowed, cannily, he remarked,

'It is rather unique.'

'I have a unique job,' she reminded.

She drew it, and the steel sang as it flew free.

She laid it across her palms, so he could have a good look.

It was unnaturally bright, radiating light from within the blade, and the edge looked sharp as a razor.

The hilt, black wrapped, glittered with embedded silver tracery, which matched her wrist bracers.

'It's a Seula Blade. No one can wield it, except me. It can Scatter any spell. And, slice just about anything I swing it at.'

'I don't doubt that,' Stephen admitted, with raised brows, 'I imagine its quite useful, in our line of work.'

'Do I sense a little envy?' Glynn wondered, a tilt of an eyebrow, as she sheathed the weapon.

'It's a Relic?'

'No.'

'So, you can have one made?' Stephen wondered, hopefully.

Glynn smiled, slowly,

'You can't. The Master who crafts them, chooses. If he decides you require one, he will make it.'

Seeing his disappointment, Glynn laughed, noted,

'You have the Cloak Of Levitation, Master Strange. There have been many who would gladly have accepted its service. I can't imagine a sword having anything close to the advantages of such a companion.'

Her compliment enticed Cloak to unwrap from around Stephen, twitching its collar in pride as it squared its shoulders, billowed out to its full glory.

'Show off,' Stephen rolled his eyes, but added a wink as she giggled, amused.

'Master Glynn, I thank you for a most enlightening tour. If I can ever be of assistance, well, you know where I live.'


	39. Intermezzo

Season Two

Three

Intermezzo

Stephen stood on the sidewalk, across the street from the main entrance to Metro-General Hospital. Hands in pockets, he surveyed the familiar structure. It was early evening, and lights were beginning to flicker on inside.

Visiting hours were open, and a sporadic trail of people came, and went.

He lingered there, just watching, for awhile.

As the sun warmed asphalt and cement cooled, a slight breeze twisted up, tickling thru his hair, and brushing Cloak.

He waited, listening for the sound of arriving ambulances, squealing up to the emergency entrance. However, it seemed a quiet evening, which was perfect.

He hoped to have a conversation with Christine, between patients, in a semi-neutral environment.

She hadn't been to the Sanctum for more than a week, and he wanted her know he was grateful.

For everything.

Of course, he could have called, but, that just didn't feel right.

There were too many things, between them, that needed addressed, and such things required face to face time.

Finally, he drew a nervous breath, squared his shoulders, adjusted the lapels of his jacket.

Cloak gave a wiggle, a fluff, straightened its collar, and Stephen chuckled, softly.

He'd opted for business casual dress, but knew darn well that Cloak would still draw attention.

He was way past worrying about what people thought. If they wanted to believe he'd become really eccentric, that was fine.

This was New York, after all, and he never went anywhere, without Cloak.

After a quick traffic check, he crossed the street, headed in.

* * *

He spotted her at the nurses station, scribbling on a clipboard.

He waited until she'd finished, passed the notes over to the man behind the counter.

'Excuse me, Doctor Palmer, do you have a few moments?' he interrupted, as she turned.

She met his eyes, offered a strained smile, a nod, eyebrows raised in surprise,

'Stephen. Is everything alright?'

'Oh, yes, yes, I'm fine. I wanted to stop by, tell you how much I appreciated you going out of your way, for me.'

She shrugged, folded her arms, almost defensively,

'No problem.'

He hesitated, awkward silence, several seconds, before explaining,

'I, ah, also wanted to let you know I'm resuming my duties...'

Her brow furrowed, disapproval, as he finished,

'I might be away, more often. Like, Kamar-Taj, or, ...someplace. I wanted you to know, in case you happened to stop by, and I wasn't there. So you wouldn't be concerned.'

She gave a sharp, brief nod,

'Thanks.'

Her manner was so cold, so dismissive, that Stephen shifted feet, smiled weakly, made one last attempt,

'Maybe, we could have dinner...?'

She was shaking her head, eyes closed, before he could finish the sentence,

'I'd really rather not, right now.'

Stephen nodded, keeping his chin low, hoping she wouldn't see the pain on his face.

Although her reaction wasn't completely unexpected, it still hurt.

He managed to compose his features, ask,

'How's Nick?'

'He should be back to work, the end of next week.'

Stephen sighed, looked at his trembling hands, realizing all the bitterness he'd carried, for so long, was gone.

Gave a genuinely happy smile,

'That's great.'

Obviously impatient to be away from him, Christine said,

'Look, Stephen, I'm sorry, I have to get back to work,' as she grabbed up another clipboard.

Stephen took a few steps back, apologetically,

'Hey, I understand.'

He paused, looking at her, offered a crooked smile, but her features might as well have been carved in marble.

As she turned to go, he took a brisk step toward her,

'One more thing, please,...'

She turned back, annoyed, clutching the clipboard like a shield.

'Do you know what happened to the person I hit?'

After a moment, she replied, shortly,

'What?'

Carefully, he took one more step, speaking urgently,

'The wreck. It was my fault. I need to know what happened, to them.'

She stared, confused by the desperate edge to his voice.

After a moment, she huffed,

'I don't know. Whoever it was, left the scene. No one ever filed a report.'

Her jaw tightened, and she added,

'If they'd called 911, we would have found you, that much sooner.'

Her expression softened, slightly,

'I'm sorry.'

Then she swung away, headed off down the hall, without a backwards glance.

Stephen stood, very still, hands fists, brow furrowed, eyes squeezed tight.

Cloak tightened around his shoulders, concerned. He drew a deep breath, relief, as a heavy burden of guilt slid away.

He could endure the consequences, what had happened, to him, much more readily, now that he knew no one else had suffered as a result of his arrogance.

'Sir? Is everything alright?' someone asked, pulling his eyes open.

He flashed the orderly a smile, gave a nod,

'Absolutely.'

Then, with a confident stride, but, a heavy heart, headed home, to the Sanctum Sanctorum.

* * *

Hello, all my patient peeps! I apologize for the long delay in posting. I work retail, and the time period from the week before Thanksgiving thru the last week of December is a brutal schedule for me. so here is a little riff to get you thru to the next set of adventures! I hope you've had time to check out my newest art; I've added an anime style Doctor Strange, and will post another very me know if you like them, and send me those reviews! I savor every tidbit of feedback!


	40. Renewal

Season Two

Four

Renewal

* * *

Bizarre.

Was that the proper word?

Doctor Stephen Strange wasn't sure.

What words could possibly describe Thanos, or the 'Snap'?

Or, in fact, everything that led up to it?

The abruptness, the unexpectedness, of it all?

Battling aliens, and, battling on, alien planets.

The horrifying knowledge of defeat, destruction. The inability to do anything about it, except to allow it to happen.

To enable it...to happen.

Desperately hoping, as he dusted away into an ebony cloud of dreamless sleep, that Tony Stark would actually figure it out.

Jolting awake from that years long slumber, to be immediately be thrown into a battle that would, yet again, decide the fate of their cosmos.

And the victory, which had come at a terrible cost.

* * *

Stephen hung the dark suit back into the armoire that held his clothes, feeling as if he didn't have the strength to stand straight.

With a deep sigh, he sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped, staring at the floor.

Despite the fact they hadn't been friends, really, had been barely acquainted, attending Tony's funeral had been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.

Coming back here, to the New York Sanctum Sanctorum, had been almost as difficult.

Outside, the world fought to regain a sense of normalcy after five years of...well, the disappearance of half the population of the known universe, and then, the abrupt return of it.

While Wong was back at Kamar-Taj, attempting to keep up with training the surge of new apprentices, Stephen was struggling to decide if this job was something that he could ever do, again.

There came a soft whisper of sound, and his beloved Cloak Of Levitation swirled onto his shoulders, offering a gentle embrace.

As always, Stephen couldn't help but smile, despite an unexpected rush of tears.

'Ah, my friend,' he murmured, stroking the soft crimson folds on his forearm,

'Where do we go, from here?'

Cloak gave a little ruffle, carefully brushed away his tears. then, after a moment,

produced a dusty envelope from its folds, handed it to Stephen.

It was addressed to him, but had clearly been sitting, unopened, for some time. The paper was sun faded, as was the ink.

Intrigued, he opened it, unfolded the letter.

It was dated, in the upper right corner, a few months after the 'Snap', written in a woman's hand.

'Stephen;

I have every confidence that, one day, when all this chaos sorts itself out, you'll return home, to New York.

When you do, I would love to have you join me, at the London Sanctum, for that cup of tea.

Perhaps both of us will be in dire need of some reassuring words, from a friend.

I anxiously await that day.

All my best,

Master Jade.'

Stephen read, re-read, the brief message, and a gave another sigh, but, this time, he chuckled, shook his head, squared his shoulders.

Stood, looked out the window, at the glorious blue sky, streaked with clouds.

Listened to the bustle of traffic, comfortingly familiar.

'Everything old, is new again,' he nodded, and Cloak gave a vigorous swirl of agreement.

'Time to visit an old friend,' he said, and swirled up a portal to London.

* * *

Wow. it seems an eternity since I've posted anything for you all, and I apologize. I hope everyone has survived all the events of End Game and are looking forward to what new things are in store for us!

one of those things is NEW CLOAK AND DOCTOR STRANGE ADVENTURES! This short story will roll us in to the new generation of Marvel, and I have a pretty cool story that I've been thinking on for quite some time that I'm pretty excited to tell. I'll be posting new artwork for it in connection with chapter one.

PLEASE R&R this story, gang! I read and treasure all feedback!


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